


Like Walking On The Moon

by Cunegonde



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Armchair travel, Bi visibility, Canon Compliant until it's not, Christmas, Feel-good, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Era, Holidays, Introspection, M/M, New Year's Eve, Non-Linear Narrative, Plot via Porn, Post-First War with Voldemort, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Remus Lupin Lives, Severus Snape Lives, Sweet but not sugar-coated, Winter Solstice, Y2K
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:14:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26195455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cunegonde/pseuds/Cunegonde
Summary: Remus Lupin has an outrageous habit of slicing up novels and only keeping the parts he likes. (The present author, following his lead, has written him a happier ending.)An introspective, retrospective view of Remus Lupin and Severus Snape as they gradually pull into one another's orbits.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Remus Lupin & Teddy Lupin, Remus Lupin/Severus Snape, Teddy Lupin & Severus Snape
Comments: 50
Kudos: 179





	Like Walking On The Moon

**Author's Note:**

> PSA: Regarding a certain scene in this story, I do not condone sneaking into public heritage sites for any reason, no matter how cute. I have made a monetary donation to the Orkney Archaeology Society in penance for what I wrote. :) Please continue to support your local museums and cultural institutions if you are able, especially during tough times and prolonged closures. 
> 
> Warnings — It’s all pretty mild, but heads up for the following: Discussion of bodily functions. Informed discussion of depression and treatment. Grief. One conversation about a traumatic past relationship. Vaguely implied references to past substance abuse. Oh, and there’s an apparent (but inaccurate) spoiler for Brideshead Revisited, a novel that’s been out for 75 years, just to keep you on your toes.
> 
> Disclaimer/Reclaimer: I stand in solidarity with the trans community and disclaim Rowling’s abhorrent and incorrect statements about trans people. Like many of you, I feel a need to reclaim and own the stories and characters that have meant so much to me since childhood, while recognizing the harmful elements within those stories. Writing this has been part of my coping process. 
> 
> Totally self-indulgent author’s notes:  
> 1\. This is my first ever Harry Potter fic, and my first foray into any fandom in about a decade. I made this account specially to post it! Stressful times have led me to seek comfort in things I loved when I was younger. I only hope I can give a little comfort in return with this story.  
> 2\. I’ve deliberately ignored big questions like: How did Lupin and Snape survive? What is Snape doing back at Hogwarts? How is Lupin supporting his family? Where is literally any other character from the series? Feel free to fill in these blanks with whatever your heart desires. Or don’t, if it doesn’t bother you. :)  
> 3\. I haven’t reread Deathly Hallows since it came out. While I’ve looked up a lot of details from canon, it’s very possible I’ve forgotten some major plot element from the books that throws a spanner in the whole story. (I mean, aside from the deaths. That was on purpose.) If that’s the case… I guess just don’t tell me, because it’s not like I’m going to go back and change it now. I am absolutely the sort of person that will quadruple-check every scene against the lunar calendar, hunt down 20-year-old footage of fireworks around the world, and go down a rabbit hole researching when various anti-depressants became available in the UK (did you know that my current medication isn’t even approved to treat depression in the UK?? I could go on about that)… basically everything except actually rereading Harry Potter.  
> 4\. I’ve knowingly and cheerfully borrowed a few things from fanon (e.g. glamour charms, hangover potion, Harry Potter just chilling at Grimmauld Place after the war), but it’s likely I’ve cribbed other details from fanfic without even realizing it because fanon and canon have blurred in my memory. If I have, I’m sorry, it was not intentional. I’ve never participated in such a massive fandom before, and I worry about these things.  
> 5\. Thanks for sticking with me. If you’re still reading: be well, be safe, be kind to yourselves, have fun!

**_June, 1997: Severus_ **

After a decade and a half of teaching, Severus Snape had received his fair share of unwanted wedding invitations, but he had never before been sent a wedding invitation in the form of a howler.

After casting _muffliato_ and opening the envelope Severus laughed, really laughed, for the first time in years. (The last, memorable occasion had been in response to a particularly passive-aggressive footnote appended to a book review in _Practical Potions_ , vol. 28, no. 2., which had caused Severus to lapse into a brief asthma attack.) He couldn’t have said why he laughed so hard, except that it was so delightfully incongruous. There was the elegant script, silver ribbon, and electric teal card-stock, which Severus might have credited to the bride-to-be had he not seen that exact shade of nail varnish on Remus Lupin in 1984. The vague smell of sulphur when he opened the envelope. It was nice to know that beneath his preternatural veneer of calm, beneath all that _niceness_ , Lupin still had a flair for theatrics. Drama, and a deep reserve of spite. Perhaps Nymphadora Tonks had been a good influence on him.

Severus ought not to have responded. It was terribly irresponsible and dangerous on many levels. But the compulsion was strong. He desperately wanted to be petty, to be childish, just for a moment. Good God, how he wanted to be childish again. So, for one evening, in the midst of the day-to-day business of war and peace, he indulged himself. He went rifling through boxes and boxes of things — how had he accumulated so many _things_? — until he found what he was searching for: his old paperback copy of _Brideshead Revisited_ , the one he had carried in his inner pocket the first time he visited Malfoy Manor. He brought it over to his desk. The spine was already cracked, pages yellowed, the cheap adhesive having long ago given way to the dampness of the dungeon. Severus flipped to page 223 and then gave it a good snap. Pages 1 through 222 fell, scattering. He _accioed_ a pot of bookbinder’s glue (a high-quality formula of his own devising), charmed the remaining pages into a neat stack, and reattached them. As an extra precaution, he added the cover from a tract on pureblood supremacy. It was a flimsy disguise, so he had to have blind faith in the incuriousness of anyone who might intercept it. Satisfied with his work, he wrapped Book II of _Brideshead Revisited_ in soft white paper and recycled the silver ribbon to tie it up. First, though, he wrote his reply in an elegant notecard, dictating the words to his formal calligraphy quill:

_Regretfully, I must decline your gracious invitation, as the date, time, and location of the ceremony were left off the announcement. Please accept this gift with my sincere felicitations._

* * *

**_December, 1984: Remus_ **

He had a trick of looking up at you through his lashes and letting you fill in the rest. You could read whatever you wanted in his soft, shifting eyes. It hadn’t started out as a trick, of course. It was an old habit born from shyness and low self-esteem. Whenever he talked to someone, he would angle his face away from them, just a little, as if they might not notice his ugly scars as long as he didn’t look them dead on. His shyness had endeared him to people at school, especially his professors, who were generally inclined to take his side and overlook his faults. Only, as soon as he became conscious of the Look, he could never quite get it back again. He only realised he did it after a boy at a party accused him of playing coy. He really hadn’t been, on that occasion. Soon, though, he discovered that he _could_ if he wanted to, and to great effect.

Mascara enhanced the effect. Medium brown — the trick was to make it look natural. He was wearing it that night, for all the good it did him. He couldn’t seem to carry on a conversation for more than ten minutes. Maybe that was his own fault. He would try, leaning artfully against the wall and chewing his cocktail straw and staring intently at someone’s nose, but then his eyes and his mind would start to wander, and suddenly he would be triple-counting the moon phases, or trying to remember the ingredients to his mother’s lasagna, or reliving that time he fell out of his chair in fourth-year Arithmancy and Winnie Jones had laughed at him with her cute dimples and her perfect white teeth — damn! He’d done it again. The stranger must have thought Remus was wincing at whatever he’d said, because he was becoming defensive. Remus mumbled something polite and glided away. Out of sight, out of mind.

He felt a jolt of _something_ for the first time all night when he spotted his unfortunate ex across the room. As usual, Craig seemed to take up an inordinate amount of space, leaning on the bar, chatting up some poor unsuspecting bloke, one sizeable hand in the boy’s rear pocket while the other gestured emphatically at nothing. He was probably talking about boats, or stocks, or — what _did_ he like to talk about, anyway? Remus couldn’t remember, although it had only been a month or two since. It didn’t matter. How dare he show his face here, anyway? Wrong time, wrong place. Any other lukewarm desires, any faint hopes for the night, went out the window. Now Remus just wanted to hurt. Hurt, and then go home and sleep.

* * *

**_December, 1984: Severus_ **

He was jumpy that night, afraid at every moment that his racing pulse would betray him for the fraud he was. Afraid that someone would turn to him, point, and say, “Look at him! He has no idea what he’s doing!” And yet the man standing in front of him, touching him, seemed unbothered. He was monstrously boring, but handsome enough. He looked to be about twice Severus’ age, and twice his size, too. He’d already told Severus he had a house, and a car. Maybe they’d shag in the car and then move things into the modern, well-ventilated shower. He sighed in anticipation.

“HELLO, CRAIG.” A new voice came booming from behind his would-be conquest. Severus felt the man jerk away; a shiver ran through him at the sudden lack of contact. “HOW’S THE WIFE? HOW’S YOUR DAUGHTER? GILLIAN, ISN’T IT? STILL ON THAT GAP YEAR?” The newcomer was, absurdly, shouting as if across a rugby pitch. Severus saw red. There was another exchange that Severus couldn’t parse, and then the older man, _his_ older man, _his_ filthy car park shag, tipped his head toward Severus and made a hasty retreat. The interloper was still there, leaning on the bar in front of him. Seething, Severus took in his smug, self-congratulatory face. A beat later, he took in the fact that it was Remus Lupin.

Lupin seemed to recognise him at the same moment, but he only nodded in acknowledgment. “I’m awfully sorry to spoil your fun, but you don’t want to go with him. He’s bad news. Trust me.”

Severus did not trust him.

“Come here often?” Lupin asked.

“Is that a serious question?” Severus let that hang in the air for a moment. “At present I live at a boarding school in the Highlands, so no, I do not.”

“Of course. Silly question. I would know if you did, anyway. This is my local. My flat’s only a few streets away.”

Severus took stock of Lupin’s appearance. He certainly _looked_ like a regular. He was wearing dark jeans and tatty fishnet sleeves, full of snags. He’d grown his hair long — not long enough to bat an eye at in the wizarding world, but just long enough to seem rebellious in muggle society, with an overgrown fringe that swept to one side. It was lighter at the ends, like he was recovering from an unfortunate affair with a bottle of bleach. His posture was guarded. Severus fought the impulse to make an inane observation, like _I didn’t know you were queer_. Given that they were at a known gay bar, it seemed rather useless to point that out now. Or maybe, _I didn’t know you were such a muggle-lover._ Same deal. Useless.

Severus watched Lupin reach across the bar and grab a wooden toothpick from a shot glass. Was it a trick of the light, or had it floated forward into his hand? Remus Lupin seemed just foolish enough to break the International Statute of Secrecy over such a tiny, trivial action. Lupin fidgeted with the toothpick.

“You look well,” Lupin said, not looking at him.

“Glamour,” Severus said flatly.

“Ah. Yes. Same here.” Lupin seemed to relax a bit. As soon as he admitted it, it seemed obvious to Severus. His skin was a little too smooth and glowing. It was like he didn’t have any pores. Clumsily done, really.

Something occurred to him. “That man,” Severus said, “he told me his name was Ned.”

“Mm. He told me that, too.” Lupin began to chew on the toothpick. “Honestly, if you’re going to choose a nom de guerre, you’d think you’d want to go with something a bit sexier than Ned.”

“What’s yours, then?”

Lupin smiled at him. “Sebastian.” He paused, as if for effect. “Like in _Brideshead Revisited_.”

“Yes, I got the reference.” Lupin’s smile shrank a little. “Horrible novel. Waugh was a sycophant. You know Sebastian drinks himself to death, right?” At eighteen, Severus had been quite enamoured with the horrible novel himself, but he wasn’t about to admit that now.

Lupin shrugged. “I don’t really count that part. I only ever read the first half. I duck out before it gets really grim.”

Severus stared at him. “Don’t count — what are you talking about? You can’t just read half a novel and call it a day.”

“Sure I can. Why should I waste my time reading things that depress me? I just pick and choose the parts I like, and chuck the rest.”

Severus was truly scandalised. “You can’t _do_ that,” he said. “You don’t get to decide for yourself where a book begins and ends. You’ll never understand what the author means to say. You’ll miss the whole point.”

“Or I’ll draw my own conclusions, and mine’ll be much better.” Lupin was grinning now. The more flustered Severus became, the more energised he seemed. Then he changed tack. “As much as I’m enjoying shouting to you about the nuances of authorial intent” — he waved broadly at the nearest speaker — “we’re both losing this debate to Cyndi Lauper. Do you want to go?”

Now there was a question. Not _do you want to go — with me?_ and certainly not _do you want to come home with me?_ , and yet it was not _not_ that, either. “Why, do I need your permission?” Severus retorted.

“No, but I’m knackered, and it’s always safer to come and go as a group. Two’s a bit better than one, and three or four is much better than two. See that fellow closing out his tab at the end of the bar? I’m going to ask him to walk out with me. You can come with, if you like.”

Taken aback at Lupin’s shift in tone, and reluctantly grateful for his practicality, Severus assented. He waited while Lupin talked to the man in the leather jacket, then waited a bit longer while Lupin drank a shot of something and settled his bill. Finally, he looked back at Severus and nodded. Lupin seemed to conjure a formless brown jacket and grey wool cap out of thin air (had he?). It was nearly as good as putting on an invisibility cloak. They left in a group of four, walking together for ten minutes before parting ways at an intersection. Then Lupin and Severus doubled back, walking twenty minutes to Lupin’s flat. They kept a few feet apart and didn’t talk the whole way there. Severus wasn’t sure why he was still following Lupin, but Lupin seemed to accept his presence through implicit agreement. Soon, he was trailing Lupin up three flights of steps and watching while Lupin struggled with the key. “You should change the locks,” Severus murmured. “That type of key is absurdly easy to replicate.” Lupin ignored him.

As soon as the door swung open, Severus was assaulted by the sickly blue light of a television set. Some man was sprawled across the couch wearing only a pair of shorts. Severus froze in horror, unprepared to meet anyone else there, but Lupin beckoned him further into the labyrinth, past the stranger without saying hello and into a cramped kitchen. “Do you want a glass of wine?” Lupin asked. He was already on his tiptoes, reaching for an upper shelf and pulling down a half empty two-litre bottle of rosé. Severus hadn’t known you could get rosé in a two-litre bottle. Lupin procured a couple of teacups and filled his all the way to the brim before handing the other to Severus. “Prost,” he said, before spilling half his wine on his Doc Martens.

“Who was that?” Severus whispered, jerking his head toward the doorframe.

“Him?” Lupin screwed up his face. “I think he’s called Ollie _—_ no, Allie _—_ I’m not sure, he just moved in. It’s a six-bedroom flat, so there’s usually about eight of us here any given moment, counting me.”

Severus was already regretting his decision. When Lupin had said ‘my flat,’ Severus had not interpreted that to mean ‘the communal muggle hovel I also sleep in.’ He wasn’t sure what he _had_ expected, but he suddenly longed for his dark, quiet room at Hogwarts. He sipped his wine and coughed. “You know this has half gone to vinegar, don’t you?”

“Has it?” Lupin looked intently into his cup. “I couldn’t tell. It was bad to begin with. Better finish it off, I guess.” He sloshed a little more so-called wine into his teacup and downed it quickly before slamming the cup on the counter. He stared at Severus. Severus shifted on his feet, uncertain.

“I hope you’re not waiting on me to drink this. We’ll be standing here all night.”

“No, that’s all right. Give it here.” Lupin emptied Severus’ cup, too. Then he ran his tongue around the rim, once, before placing it in the sink. If that was an attempt to be sensual, it was odd and off-putting. It seemed more like an unconscious action. The same way Lupin seemed to act without thinking when he pushed against Severus, hips first, and kissed him.

Lupin tasted like vinegar and cigarettes. Severus pulled away in surprise, backing up as far as he could, which wasn’t very far as he knocked into the telephone and the receiver fell, dangling from its wire like someone had cast _levicorpus_ on it. Lupin withdrew in a flash, moving to the other side of the kitchen. He looked upset. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought that’s what we were doing here.”

Severus pressed a hand to his forehead, willing away the headache that had been building all night. “No. I mean, it is. I just thought...” What had he thought? He’d thought that there would be more pretence, more artifice. Some story he could latch on to and tell himself in the morning. Any excuse to explain why he was here, now, about to fall into bed with one of his great childhood tormentors. Shouldn’t he _feel_ something? Wasn’t there some cosmic reason they had run into each other? Surely they wouldn’t just stumble blindly into sex, _faute de mieux_?

Lupin was waiting for him to finish his sentence. The dial tone hummed persistently from the unattended receiver. Severus had nothing, so instead he said, “I just thought we would move to the bedroom, first.”

Lupin exhaled deeply. “Oh, of course. Come with me.” He grabbed Severus’ cuff and led him down the narrow hallway. The door swung inward. Lupin’s bedroom was a glorified shoebox. The door couldn’t even open all the way, being blocked by the long edge of the bed. Lupin jumped straight from the hallway onto the mattress, rolled over once, and began to unlace his sticky shoes. The remaining metre or so at the foot of the bed was taken up by a freestanding clothes rack and a hamper, and Lupin placed the shoes somewhere in that vicinity. Severus took his own boots off in the hallway before following Lupin onto the bed and closing the door. His face must have betrayed his thoughts, because Lupin said, “The room came with a single bed, but that didn’t really suit my needs.” Severus couldn’t fault that argument.

Then, to Severus’ utter bemusement, Lupin stood up on the bed and began to remove his clothes. Severus had no idea what to do or where to look during this ritual, so he began to undress too, but sitting down, like a regular person. Lupin paused with his hands at the top of his zip and smiled. “I wouldn’t mind a bit of help with these. I’m basically vacuum-sealed into them.”

Severus helped Lupin shimmy out of his trousers. Then, because he was already kneeling, he took Lupin’s cock into his mouth. Lupin swore softly. Severus had surprised him. It felt good to have the upper hand again. Severus couldn’t help smiling, just a bit, which made Lupin swear again as Severus’ teeth grazed his skin. Lupin widened his stance, trying to stay upright on the unstable mattress. He reminded Severus of someone trying to stand on the tube without touching the handrails. Lupin only made it about two minutes before losing his balance and tumbling onto the mattress. The bedsprings groaned like they were in agony. Lupin seemed to find this hilarious.

Now Lupin used his momentum to springboard on top of Severus. They kissed for a minute. Lupin pressed down against Severus’ body like he was trying to squeeze all the air out between them. Then he sat back on his heels, staring just a bit too long for Severus’ comfort. Then he bent to suck Severus off. He managed much more successfully than Severus had. Severus tangled his fingers in Lupin’s hair. It wasn’t as soft as he expected, but it was thick and heavy and pleasant to touch. Annoyingly, he felt a pang of jealousy.

Just as Severus finally began to lose himself, Lupin launched back to his feet as if impelled by an invisible force and wobbled to the other side of the bed. Severus almost cried out in frustration. Lupin was like a cat, his every movement abrupt, unpredictable and inexplicable to Severus. Now Lupin was rummaging for something on the shelf above his bed. A moment later he sat back down and handed Severus a condom.

Oh. That was an acceptable explanation.

“Have you been tested recently?” Lupin asked. He shifted onto his back, legs drawn up, and Severus kneeled by his feet.

“Yes,” Severus answered as he unwrapped the condom. It was virtually true. He had been tested after his last sexual misadventure. It would only be a stretch to call it recent.

“That’s good. I went to the clinic last week. Still, better play it safe.” Lupin stretched his legs out long and arched his back, caressing himself as he rolled his own sheath down the length of his erection. Severus felt obscene watching him. No one had any business looking that smooth while putting on a condom. He’d probably practised to get the motion just so.

Severus waited for Lupin to make the next move, heart pounding. Lupin stared at the ceiling, eyes half closed. His fingers circled the expanse of skin beneath his own navel. A flush spread across his chest, all the way up to his ears. Severus waited.

Severus’ eyes drifted to the watch ticking on the shelf above the bed. The silence of anticipation stretched into a silence of mortification. Had Lupin fallen asleep? Was he in a fugue state?

Severus looked back down at Lupin. His eyes were still open, his pink chest still heaving, his cock still standing at attention as he lazily touched himself. He just wasn’t saying anything. Swallowing his embarrassment, Severus asked, “What next?”

Lupin’s eyes refocused on Severus’ face. He looked surprised. “Didn’t I say? I want you to fuck me.”

“No, you did not say,” Severus growled.

“Oh. I could have sworn I did. Maybe I just thought it.” Lupin drew his knees back up again. “Anyway, I — _oh!_ ” Severus began to finger him. He was tired of hearing Lupin speak in that matter-of-fact way. Severus wanted to make him slip up, lose composure. He’d never been good at talking about sex — before, during, or after — and as much as he appreciated Lupin’s direct approach, he also resented Lupin for possessing a skill he did not. Damn him.

Lupin whimpered softly, which seemed to indicate that he was enjoying himself. He was looking up at the ceiling again. Severus had wanted to make him stop talking so conversationally, but he wasn’t sure what to do with this quiet, either. He recalled that they hadn’t cast any sort of silencing charm. Perhaps Lupin was just trying to be polite to his flatmates. Lupin had always been so _polite_. Damn him.

Severus tried to focus on Lupin’s face. He searched for something, anything, to indicate that Lupin was there with him. Severus wanted his full attention. He wanted to make an impression. He needed to know that this wasn’t just another Friday night in the sordid life of Remus Lupin. Lupin’s face was inscrutable. Severus tried to remember what Lupin had looked like at school. Back then he had been blandly handsome, if a bit anaemic-looking, even despite his scars. Not Severus’ cup of tea, but he could see the appeal from a purely academic standpoint. Lupin was easy to look at. Easy for the eyes to glide right over, the way a wheel glides on a smooth track. Lacking in resistance. It was not quite beauty, but an absence of ugliness.

Severus found his gaze slipping again. There it went over the gentle slope of Lupin’s nose, the smoothness of his brow. Down over his throat now, and back up to his cheekbones. Severus’ mind was scrabbling for purchase. Something wasn’t right.

Lupin broke through his thoughts with a half-whisper. “I’m ready now. More than ready. Please.”

Severus withdrew his fingers. He lingered for a moment, long enough for Lupin to let out a whine and thrust his hips in Severus’ direction. “Drop your glamour,” Severus said.

“No, thank you,” Lupin answered. “I’d like you to fuck me now. Please.”

“And I’d like you to drop your glamour.” Severus leaned in closer, taking Lupin’s face in his right hand and tilting Lupin’s chin towards him. “I want to _see_ you when I fuck you.”

That did it. Finally, _finally_ , Lupin looked him dead on, frowning. “You first,” he said. It sounded like a challenge. It gave Severus a tiny thrill.

“Certainly,” said Severus. What did it matter at this point? He murmured a quiet _finite._ He didn’t feel any different, but he knew what Lupin would be seeing. His skin grew a bit more sallow, his hair more lank. The line between his eyebrows returned, along with the rash along his temple that had plagued him for weeks and seemed immune to all potions. The angry shadow of a brand on his left arm, which Lupin didn’t even glance twice at, meaning he either knew about the defection or was far less principled than Severus had ever thought. Severus nudged himself into position, gently pressing the tip of his penis against Lupin’s entrance, no further. What was he going to do, kick him out now?

Then he was _blindsided_. For a few seconds of absolute panic, Severus thought he had somehow cast an accidental _sectumsempra_. Frantic, Severus surveyed Lupin’s body and realised that they were only scars, unveiled all at once to Severus’ prying eyes. Had they always been so livid? Had there always been so _many_? That one, there, on Lupin’s left shoulder — that wasn’t a scar, that was a wound still healing. His gaze trailed back to Lupin’s face. Lupin was frightfully gaunt, with deep purplish circles under his eyes. Severus was surprised to see that the golden highlights scattered throughout his hair were actually strands of premature grey. Every single pore was present.

Severus felt a wave of revulsion rise from his stomach into his throat. From his throat to his stomach, he felt a ripple of revulsion’s twin, desire. He was dizzy and desperate as he pushed into Lupin. Finally, Lupin began to make noise. Severus could barely hear him over the infernal bedsprings and the ringing in his own ears. Lupin stared into Severus’ eyes for the first minute or two, his expression set in something like a grimace of determination. (Was that a chipped tooth? Why hadn’t he had that fixed?) Then he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He kept his eyes closed the whole time. Severus could not begrudge him that. He watched Lupin touch himself, squeezing and stroking to his own internal rhythm, out of sync with Severus’ thrusts. Orgasm appeared to come upon him suddenly, and then Severus lost all sense of rhythm too, caught up in watching Lupin writhe beneath him.

He permitted himself to rest on top of Lupin for three long, shaky breaths, before pulling out and rolling off to Lupin’s righthand side. Lupin, ever efficient, immediately tied both condoms in a knot and flung them at the corner of the room. Severus found that rather repugnant. Lupin settled back onto his pillow. They both lay on their backs, not touching.

Thirty minutes. That was the length of time Severus would allow himself before leaving. Half an hour to catch his breath and recover full use of his legs. The pub with the floo connection was probably closed by now. He would have to find a safe place to apparate to Hogsmeade. Just as well. A brisk walk would do him good.

Twenty-three minutes passed, and he felt Lupin squirm beside him. Severus turned his head to look at him. Lupin looked back. His eyes were alert now, his lips slightly parted. He looked more relaxed and yet remained just as impossible to read. Severus didn’t feel desire or disgust anymore, only curiosity. He wanted to kiss Lupin on the mouth, so he did. Lupin stuck his tongue into Severus’ mouth.

That was when Severus knew he’d gone and fucked himself. He had missed his window to exit gracefully. What was he doing, kissing _after_ sex? He realised then that there would be no brisk walk home under the stars. He was in it for the night. He would queue up for the communal toilet, and sleep next to Lupin on his miserable double mattress, and wake up with back pain and, if it couldn’t be avoided, he would brace himself for an excruciatingly awkward goodbye in the morning.

To his immense consternation, Severus woke up alone the next morning. This was uncharted territory. He’d never awoken alone in someone else’s bed. He was besieged by anxieties. Was he meant to wait for Lupin to come back, or go out into the common area? Would he have to make smalltalk with a strange muggle? Was Lupin even still there? Had he gone out? Did he have a job? It was seven o’clock on a Saturday, so Severus thought he could rule that out. But what if he worked at a café? Severus inhaled and exhaled, trying to get a grip on the present moment. He decided that he should get dressed, first of all. He felt ridiculous fumbling to dress himself while sitting on the bed, and on the off chance Lupin did come back, Severus did not want to be caught in an undignified position. Having dressed, Severus looked about for his boots, before remembering he’d left them outside the room. He spotted the used condoms lying brazenly on the moss green carpet.

He heard the doorknob turn and scooted back to a seated position against the wall. Lupin edged into the room, balancing two cups of coffee and a bundle of paper serviettes. He handed Severus one of the cups and a single slice of dry toast before manoeuvring onto to the bed and shutting the door with his foot. The coffee was terrible, the instant kind with nothing added. Still, Severus accepted it, hoping it would help dispel his headache.

Severus ate his meagre breakfast quickly, preparing to say the words he had rehearsed all night as he drifted in and out of fitful sleep. “We won’t be seeing each other again,” he declared.

“No, I don’t think so, either.”

Severus hesitated. He hadn’t expected it to be so simple. “Right then,” he said. Then, remembering that he still had a mostly-full cup of very bad, very hot coffee, he resigned himself to sitting there and sipping it in uncomfortable silence. Lupin stared into the middle distance, his expression neutral. He looked like he might be making a grocery list or planning a trip to the launderette. With every passing second, Severus felt more and more that he was imposing on Lupin’s rather limited hospitality. Far be it from him to keep the man from getting on with his day. “I’ll be on my way. Thank you for the breakfast,” he said. He felt he was being magnanimous by calling it ‘breakfast.’

“Sure.” Remus rose with him, though he was trapped in the room until Severus finished lacing up his boots. “There’s a corner shop with a backroom floo about thirty minutes from here. I think they open at eight on Saturdays. I can draw you a map, if you like.”

“That would be helpful,” Severus said by way of thanks. Lupin was back to being practical. Damn him. Lupin sketched a map on a discarded serviette, then walked Severus down to the front entryway of the building, like a gentleman. “Well,” Severus said stiffly, “goodbye.”

“Ciao, ta for everything, lovely to catch up, get home safe, see you at the ten year reunion,” Lupin said breezily. Ah. Irony. Severus could tell from the tiny smirk that played across Lupin’s face. Severus smirked back in recognition. Then, having nothing more to say, he left.

* * *

**_Christmas Eve, 1999: Remus_ **

“Apple?”

Remus frowned, losing count once again. His entire arm was buried in his Bottomless Baby Bag, groping about to make sure that every carefully concealed gift was still accounted for. He was really putting that brand name to the test.

At this stage, ‘apple’ could refer to any type of fresh fruit, although apple slices were still the reigning favourite. It was a moot point anyway, because they all gave Teddy the runs. Remus used his free hand to levitate some crackers towards him, instead. He started his count again.

“Apple,” Teddy said disdainfully. He still ate a cracker, or at least took a bite before crushing the rest on the floor.

“We’re going to Harry’s house for dinner.” Teddy’s face lit up. Remus had already told him at least a dozen times that day, but every time he said Harry’s name it was like he’d cast a charm over his child that made him forget whatever he was fussing about. Teddy asked when they were going to Harry’s house. Remus told him they would go as soon as Daddy finished getting ready. Teddy forgot to ask about Apple for a whole six minutes as Remus did a final check on his baby bag and swept the crumbs from the floor.

The last step was to get Teddy into his pyjamas, which would save an incalculable amount of time and hassle later on. Remus held up two onesies, both presents from Teddy’s grandmother. The tags claimed they were stain-resistant and guaranteed to grow in size up to twenty-four months (warning: risk of danger: do not attempt to shrink). “Penguins or reindeer?” Remus asked.

“Birds,” Teddy answered. Remus looked at the onesies, trying to puzzle it out. Penguins were birds, but the reindeer in the picture were flying. He held out the penguins to Teddy, who shook his head, exasperated by his father’s cluelessness. Remus helped Teddy into the reindeer onesie. Penguins tomorrow night, then. He took a moment to sit back and admire his son, heart fluttering with pride. He wondered if there would be any other littles at tomorrow’s holiday soirée. Partly for Teddy’s sake, but mostly because he loved nothing more than a silent game of My-Baby’s-Cuter-Than-Your-Baby. According to his scoreboard, Remus and Teddy had never lost a match.

Remus had the forethought to snap a photo for Andromeda before Teddy could spill or smear anything all over her gift. Then he scooped Teddy up in a blanket and carried them through the floo to 12 Grimmauld Place, only an hour and a quarter later than he’d said they would be.

“Sorry we’re late,” he called out as he stepped into the sitting room; words he spoke so habitually that they had become an automatic reflex. His attention was fixed on unwrapping Teddy and shaking the blanket out over the hearth. It had mostly done the trick, but there was a bit of soot clinging to Teddy’s hair. He blew across the top of Teddy’s head, and Teddy giggled and turned his hair black, making it difficult to tell if Remus had got all the soot out. His kid might not know about mammals yet, but he had a sense of humour.

Harry hurried over to take Teddy. Remus smiled gratefully and clapped him on the shoulder. “Hello, Harry. Happy Christmas.” Harry briefly acknowledged him, already engaged in making funny faces with Teddy. Remus watched them fondly. The flutter came back again.

“There’s mulled wine on the sideboard. Don’t worry, it’s mostly juice. I couldn’t remember what kind of milk Teddy likes, so I got one of everything.”

“He’s not particular,” Remus said. He turned to make a beeline for the mulled wine and noticed for the first time there was someone else in the room. Severus Snape was sitting ramrod straight in a big velvet wingback chair, glaring at the floor like it had just insulted his mother. The flutter in his heart rolled over and died. Fantastic.

Remus tried to keep his dismay off his face, but Harry was sensitive to that sort of thing. “It’s just us for dinner,” Harry said in a tone that was both cheerful and apologetic. “Luna and her dad were supposed to come, but they sent a note earlier. Something about an emergency roof repair.” He said this as if the presence of Xenophilius Lovegood would have somehow improved the tension in the room.

“That’s a shame,” Remus lied, ladling out a generous helping of mulled wine which he _really_ deserved. He had been grateful for Harry’s invitation, relieved not to have to think about cooking, or washing up, or disposing of gift wrap, or being Teddy’s sole source of entertainment. The full moon had come two nights before, on the solstice, and Remus was still exhausted. Tomorrow was the big Christmas celebration at the Burrow, but Christmas Eve was meant to be more relaxing. Harry had told Remus he was inviting a few friends to stay the night and open presents in the morning. People with nowhere else to go — that was the implication. Remus hadn’t minded. Grimmauld Place was too vast and empty for one young man, and Remus tended to enjoy the company of anyone that Harry liked. He’d forgotten that category now included Severus Snape.

“Severus,” Remus said, when it became clear that Snape would not break the ice first. “It’s good to see you again. Have you met Teddy before?” Remus asked, knowing full well that he had not.

“No, but I know him by reputation.” Remus was about to get defensive, but then he realised Severus was actually smiling at Teddy, just a little. Harry carried Teddy over to Severus to say hello.

“Apple,” Teddy said to Severus.

“I think that means he likes you,” Harry said, grinning. “That, or he’s mistaken your head for a cantaloupe.”

“It must be because Severus is so sweet,” Remus said, affecting innocence. He was still hovering by the mulled wine, uncertain where to position himself. Mercifully, he was spared by Kreacher popping into the room to announce that dinner was on the table, _now that all the guests had deigned to arrive_. The house elf sent a particularly nasty glare in Remus’ direction before disapparating again. “He hates me most,” Remus bragged.

Dinner wasn’t completely agonising. Kreacher might grumble about their grave lapse of propriety, but Remus was glad they were eating at the more intimate breakfast table, rather than in the grand dining hall — though he did laugh at the idea of dining at five metres distance from Snape with poor Harry stranded somewhere in the middle. Remus focused most of his attention on the exquisite meal and the task of mashing up various dishes for Teddy to sample. Teddy was seated (and occasionally standing, climbing, or squirming) on his lap, and the smell of his hair calmed Remus down. He thought about Andromeda lying on the beach in Rio. Perhaps at this very moment she was sipping a caipirinha delivered by man in a speedo half her age. Remus wondered if he could close his eyes and wish very hard to switch places with her.

Harry and Snape seemed to be continuing a conversation from before Remus and Teddy had arrived. He _had_ been terribly curious to know what those two talked about, now that they were _friends_ or some such. As it turned out, it was mostly theoretical talk about developing and testing new spells, a subject on which Remus was reasonably well informed. Enough so that he found a word or two to say every time Harry tried to loop him back into the conversation. He felt for Harry, he really did. Remus had been cast in the role of mediator and social lubricator often enough himself. He knew he was being difficult. He just couldn’t quite bring himself to rise above it tonight.

When he sensed the telltale signs of Teddy relieving himself, Remus himself was immensely relieved. He stood, hoisting Teddy up with him. “Excuse me,” he interrupted whatever Harry was saying, “Teddy needs to be changed.” Mouthing the words into Teddy’s ear, he added, “Nice one.”

His victory was short-lived, however, as Harry also shot to his feet. “I’ll do it!” he volunteered. “Please, Remus, go ahead and keep eating.” Remus seethed internally while schooling his face into a smile. He knew that Harry only wanted to be helpful. With great reluctance and a very convincing “thank you,” Remus handed his darling little escape plan over to Harry, who beamed back at him.

Remus sat down again, and the sound of his chair scraping over the floor echoed like thunder about the room. He hadn’t been alone in a room with Severus Snape in years. Not since before Snape became a murderous turncoat, and then transformed, mystifyingly, into a war hero. Maybe not since Remus had taught at Hogwarts. He couldn’t remember anymore.

“It’s the most remarkable thing,” Remus said. “His hair always goes a little bit darker when it’s solid waste. At first I thought it was a fluke, but he keeps doing it. He did it just now, though it’s harder to see by candlelight.”

Severus looked decidedly unimpressed with this line of conversation. Really, Remus had classed it up by using the term ‘solid waste,’ seeing as they were at the dinner table. And speaking of waste, Remus’ wit was utterly wasted on Severus Snape.

“So,” Snape said after a pause, “it seems that out of Potter’s _numerous_ friends and admirers, we were the only two people with nowhere else to go tonight.” Ah, the old one-two punch of self-deprecation and insult. Look at you, Lupin, you’re just as pathetic as I am.

“First of all, my child is a person, and second, Teddy and I didn’t have to _go_ anywhere. We could have had a perfectly nice evening at home. I _chose_ to come here so that Teddy could spend time with his godfather.” There. What’s your excuse?

“Certainly. And I could have had a perfectly nice evening at Hogwarts, making smalltalk over non-alcoholic punch with a handful of colleagues and waifs who also lacked anywhere better to be on Christmas Eve.” God damn it. He’d twisted it. He wasn’t supposed to make Remus feel sorry for him.

 _Whatever_ , Remus huffed. They were there to have a nice time. Anyway, he’d heard the beach at Ipanema was crowded and full of litter. He didn’t even _like_ cachaça... much. 12 Grimmauld Place was absolutely his first choice. Fortunately Harry and Teddy returned soon, sparing him further discomfort. Harry was getting very efficient at changing nappies. He was a hot contender for the title of #1 Babysitter.

Remus put Teddy to bed shortly after pudding. (They were both exhausted by then, but damn it, the Lupins weren’t quitters.) They were staying in their usual space, the nursery that had seen generations of Blacks through their turbulent childhoods. This room had undergone more renovations than any other part of the house, barring Harry’s bedroom. Still, they had kept most of the furniture, only brightening things with a fresh coat of paint and adding a grown-up bed so that Remus could sleep next to Teddy’s cot. The most popular object in the nursery was a fantastical rocking horse, dressed as if for a military parade and bearing the full gamut of Black family heraldry. This was the only toy they had left as-is, after much debate which for some reason had involved Andromeda and Molly Weasley. Words like _aesthetic_ and _artefact_ and _patina_ had been recklessly bandied about.

Remus sat in a caned rocking chair to read Teddy his bedtime story. As he rocked, he imagined generations of wet nurses sitting where he sat, cooing and singing and knitting stockings late into the night. Surely the Blacks had employed wet nurses, transient young squibs who couldn’t afford to raise their own babies. Women who had lived in this house, who had nurtured life for this House, whose names had been long forgotten. He wondered idly when that practice had stopped. _Had_ it stopped? Had Sirius had a wet nurse? Remus would probably never know, now. He thought with regret about what fertile grounds for mockery that would have been. Just one more could-have-been to mourn.

Remus was sorely tempted to stay up in the nursery and succumb to sleep himself, but there was one more all-important task to do. He picked up the Bottomless Baby Bag as quietly as possible and tiptoed back to the grand parlour, where a towering fir tree waited with enticingly glittering branches outstretched. Remus saw, with a mixture of excitement and dismay, that there were already myriad gifts piled beneath it. “They’re not all for Teddy,” Harry said reassuringly. “I think two or three are for me.” Most of their friends had sent Teddy’s gifts directly to Grimmauld Place. To this monumental pile Remus added gifts from Andromeda, himself, and assorted Tonks relatives and family friends. The most unexpected was a small, elegant parcel from Narcissa Malfoy, relayed to him through Andromeda. Remus already knew what was inside, of course, having promptly opened it to check for curses, poisons, and any loose shards of Dark Lord soul. It was, in fact, a luxurious cashmere baby cape in the style of the last century, royal blue with brass buttons stamped with tiny Black insignia. He wondered if those had been Narcissa’s or Andromeda’s little tooth marks on the accompanying cedar block (which was also, incredibly, branded with the family crest). Then again, maybe they were Draco’s. That child somehow struck him as an aggressive teether. Remus made a mental note to find out if the Malfoys had employed a wet nurse (and if they had, to purchase an all-inclusive spa package for her).

He couldn’t wait to dress Teddy in the formal baby cape and his ‘FUCK RACISM’ onesie (purchased by Tonks while she was still gestating) and take him to the muggle shopping centre for family portraits. He’d be sure to send one to the Malfoys.

Severus sat quietly to the side while they worked. Harry kept trying to reveal what he’d gotten Teddy for Christmas, and Remus kept insisting he keep it a surprise, so Harry had resorted to charades. Based on that, Remus was pretty sure Harry had gotten his son either a youth rail pass or a live hammerhead shark. “Just as long as you also got him the socks I asked for, I’m fine with anything,” he said.

Remus nearly forgot that Snape was there until he rose to his feet and spoke. “I’ve just remembered something that I left behind at Hogwarts. I’ll have to floo back for it. Excuse me.”

Harry looked put out. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow? It’s awfully late.”

“No, I’m afraid it can’t wait. I’ll return tonight, once I’ve retrieved it.”

“All right,” Harry said doubtfully. “Well, I guess we’ll see you later.”

Remus and Harry both assumed, without saying as much, that Severus would not be coming back. It was only a slightly more tactful exit than slamming the door, but at least it spared Harry a bit of embarrassment. Selfishly, Remus was pleased to have Harry to himself. Although he had been desperate to retire to the nursery only minutes before, now he was content to sit by the fire for a little longer, finally at ease to talk about family, and friends, and plans for the future. Harry, remembering to play host, asked if Remus wanted anything to drink. “I think there’s brandy in the cellar, or, erm, cognac... I can’t remember which one people drink after dinner...”

Taking pity on Harry, Remus said, “I hate to seem like a boring old dad, but what I’d really like right now is a cup of warm milk before bed.”

“Oh!” Harry said. “We have milk. Five kinds, at least.” Harry got hot chocolate for himself.

They chatted about the upcoming party at the Burrow. Last Christmas had been a subdued occasion. Remus had gone to Andromeda’s house for supper, where they exchanged modest gifts over an oblivious Teddy’s head. This year Andromeda had gone on a well-deserved holiday, and George Weasley had thrown himself into the project of turning Weasley Family Christmas Dinner into the holiday party of the millennium. The invitations advertised it as a black tie soirée, with an asterisk denoting that this included (but was not limited to) clip-on ties, bolo ties, hair ties, twist ties, and tie-dye. Harry had risen to the occasion by rustling up an old silk tie emblazoned with the Black family crest. He thought he could maybe find one for Remus, too, but Remus insisted that it was Harry’s joke and Harry should get all the credit for it. Remus’ contribution was to unearth the hideous, oversized velvet bowtie in mustard and maroon that Sirius had gotten as a joke and then worn to Bellatrix Black’s wedding. Remus planned to transfigure it a bit so that Teddy could wear the bow on his head. Sirius would have loved that.

They talked for over an hour, and Remus was just nodding off to sleep in his chair when the dying fire roared back to life. Remus nearly jumped out of his seat with fright, having dreamed that a dragon was poking its head through the window. Instead, he opened his eyes to the only-marginally-less-threatening sight of Severus Snape sweeping into the room.

“You came back!” Harry said, and Remus’ heart ached for the child that sounded so amazed by that simple fact.

Severus had returned with a wrapped present that was very obviously shaped like a potions bottle, which he placed beneath the tree, not too close to the front but not at the back, either. “What is it?” Remus asked. “Is it a blanket? Is it a fruit basket? Is it a tricycle? Is it a puppy?”

“Oi,” Harry interjected, “ _you_ can wait ‘til morning, like everyone else.”

“That’s a very good idea,” Remus said, stretching and yawning.

Morning came rather sooner than Remus would have liked. Teddy had only a vague idea of what was going to happen on Christmas morning, but he knew that it was going to be good, and that it was nearly sunrise already. He was practically singing and dancing in his cot when Remus opened his eyes.

“Ten more minutes,” Remus groaned futilely. Teddy was far less forgiving than his alarm clock. Remus ran distractedly through Teddy’s ablutions while humming ‘The Girl From Ipanema’ and changed him into the penguin onesie. Teddy whined and kicked his feet all the while, desperately eager to get to Tree. Remus let him scoot down the stairs by himself, spotting him as he went, which was a surefire way to slow him down for a few minutes. Three-quarters of the way down, Remus realised he’d forgotten to change out of his own pyjamas, which were really just a pair of joggers, one of his wife’s old t-shirts, and some moth-eaten woollen socks. He knew canary yellow really wasn’t his colour, but he wasn’t bothered enough to go back upstairs and change.

They made enough noise coming down the stairs that by the time they arrived, Harry and Snape were already gathered by the tree. Remus found it amazing that anyone who didn’t have a toddler would be awake just then, but he was grateful that he wouldn’t have to stall for time. The sideboard had been converted to a buffet with tea, coffee, juice, milk, and an array of attractive pastries. There was also a small pot of porridge for Teddy, who would not be having a pastry no matter how much he wheedled his godfather. In truth, Remus could have murdered a full Scottish breakfast, but he settled for an apple turnover and a cup of black coffee.

Teddy’s eyes were round as saucers as he sized up the pile of gifts. Remus braced himself, knowing that they could be there for hours. Teddy wanted to open every present by himself, but didn’t quite have the fine motor skills to complete the task. Every time he gasped, squealed, or giggled, Remus attempted to stick a spoonful of porridge into his mouth. At some point, Harry stopped folding used wrapping paper and starting sticking all of the bows to Remus instead. Remus retaliated by trying to get to the bows and stick them to Harry first. Teddy shrieked like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen (which it very well might have been). Shrieks were good, as they gave Remus more clearance to land the spoon. By tacit agreement, Severus was left out of the game with the ribbons.

It felt a bit odd to have Snape there, quietly observing them like an anthropologist, but Remus was feeling far more generous than the night before and even made a few attempts to engage him in conversation. Remus waited until Severus hadn’t spoken for a long time to summon the mysterious present he’d brought the previous night. “Here, Daddy will help you open this one,” Remus told Teddy. If Remus had a sixth sense, it was knowing when his child was about to break something. The gift was tied with simple twine, anyway, and Teddy seemed far less interested in destroying the plain white paper.

Remus slid a stoneware vessel out of the wrapping. It was pretty, a presentation piece. The surface was decorated with little suns, moons, and stars. This gave Remus pause as he turned it over in his hands, but looking up at Snape, Remus quickly decided he hadn’t meant anything by it. They were only crescent moons, anyway. “Severus,” he said, “dare I ask what kind of potion you’ve deemed appropriate for my infant?”

“May I show you?” Severus asked, addressing the question to Teddy rather than Remus. Teddy signed ‘yes.’ “It’s not toxic,” he added dismissively.

“Oh. Good. I would say that’s the bare minimum requirement.”

Severus moved from his chair to sit next to Teddy (and Remus, and Harry) on the floor, which was just about the oddest thing Remus had seen all morning. Remus did catch the almost-imperceptible wince as Severus lowered himself to the ground, and his knees gave a sympathetic twinge, just to remind him that he would pay for this later. He watched Severus pull the stopper from the bottle, curious as a twisted wire emerged from within. It took a moment for his mind to reconcile that it was a bubble wand.

Severus held the wand up and blew an enormous bubble. Scratch that — _this_ was the oddest thing Remus had seen all morning, and maybe all year. Then Severus reached out and caught the bubble in his hand. It didn’t pop. He worked it in his hand like clay, pressing it into the shape of a cube and letting it float away again. He blew another and twisted it into the approximate shape of a swan, which he waved in Teddy’s direction. Teddy squealed. He grabbed the swan with both hands. Now it was a pancake. “They won’t burst until you say the proper incantation,” Severus explained. Pointing at the cube, which had settled on a branch of the tree, he said, “Pop!” It popped.

“Can I try?” Harry asked. Severus handed him the bottle. Harry sent a volley of bubbles at Teddy. Teddy was in raptures. “These are neat. How do they work?”

“A simple charm I came up with years ago,” Severus said. Brag. “Professor Flitwick and I devised it for a joint lesson on enchanting liquids. It’s best to use an inert substance when demonstrating magical theory. It’s not actually a potion,” he explained. “It’s just soap solution. A very efficacious soap solution.”

“Is that what you do in your off time?” Remus asked, grinning. “Try out different types of bubble soap?”

“Of course not,” Severus scoffed. “I did that on the clock.”

“How come we never had that lesson when I was at school?” Harry complained.

“I suppose we removed it from the syllabus to make room for something more essential.”

“Whatever,” Harry said. “I’ll bet you stopped doing it because the students were having too much fun in class.”

Severus neither confirmed nor denied that accusation. Instead, he took the soap bottle back from Harry. “If you concentrate while you’re forming the bubble, you can...” Severus stared at the wire with absurd intensity as he blew another bubble. This time, the bubble came out shaped more or less like a horse. Teddy clapped, and then tried to put the horse in his mouth. Apparently displeased by its taste and texture, he let the mangled horse go directly.

Harry and Teddy played with bubbles for a while. It was hard to say which of them was having more fun. Harry taught Teddy to say ‘pop,’ which he picked up on very quickly. Once he’d got the hang of it, all Teddy wanted to do was destroy Harry’s carefully sculpted bubbles. “I think he has a new favourite word,” Remus said. Teddy seemed like he could keep playing all day, until suddenly he remembered that they had been opening presents, and that there were still _more_ presents. Remus noted with satisfaction that Teddy’s back was turned to the tree during this epiphany. “My son is very good at object permanence,” he said proudly.

They tore through the rest of the presents, which included Harry’s gifts to Severus (a gift certificate to Flourish & Blotts, because Snape was impossible to shop for) and Remus (a watch that wasn’t held together by spellotape), and Severus’ and Remus’ gifts to Harry (respectively, a calming tisane and a framed photograph of Harry, Ron and Hermione cooing over Teddy). The culmination of the morning was Harry’s gift to Teddy, a vast toy train set with a scale model of the Hogwarts Express. “It actually runs on steam,” Harry explained excitedly, “but magic works too.” Remus thought that the track would just about fit in his flat, if he laid it along the entire perimeter.

Once Harry and Teddy had settled a bit from all the excitement, Severus said, “I think it’s time I return to Hogwarts. I’ve appreciated your hospitality.”

“You’re not coming along to the Burrow?” Harry asked. He was clearly trying to sound nonchalant, but his disappointment was palpable. Remus felt a blaze of desire to hurt Snape.

“I don’t mean to be discourteous.” Snape’s voice was disarming, almost soft. He touched his temple.

“Migraine?” Harry softened too, and Remus sensed that they had had this conversation before. This was a strange new world in which Harry Potter and Severus Snape got together for tea and swapped stories about their ailments. “Well, at least rest here until lunchtime,” Harry said. It reminded Remus of the tone Bill Weasley used when he thought that Molly and Arthur were being unreasonable. Defensive and protective. “After lunch you can go, if you’re not feeling any better.”

To Remus’ surprise, Severus caved. He was likely convinced by the argument that if he returned to Hogwarts now, he might be trapped into taking part in the festivities or, worse, chaperoning students. Snape retired to his guest room, and Remus and Harry stayed with Teddy, laying track and figuring out how to work the model steam engine. Remus felt unexpectedly wistful as Harry told Teddy stories about the Hogwarts Express. He’d spent years of his childhood thinking that he’d never get to go to a proper school with other children, let alone the legendary Hogwarts. With Teddy, it was never in doubt. Their friends and family had started bantering about which Hogwarts house Teddy would be in within hours of his birth. Remus wanted it to always be that way. He wanted to always take for granted that his child had a happy, hopeful future ahead.

Remus drifted off to sleep for a blissful half hour, stretched out right there on the rug with the train whirring around him. When he woke up, it was to the sound of Harry reading to Teddy, bringing the energy level down for nap time. Harry had already changed Teddy’s nappy and fed him a snack while Remus dozed. He really was an extraordinary young man. Remus watched the two of them through half-lidded eyes. Extraordinary, but not so strange, given all that Harry had experienced. Certainly it was unusual for a nineteen-year-old to live alone in a townhouse, to devote his spare time to home improvement projects and childcare and hosting dinner parties, but it seemed to do him a world of good. Eventually, Remus figured that Harry would get tired of playing house at Grimmauld Place; would stop studying how to act like a grown-up and actually become one. But for now, he seemed content, and that was all that mattered.

Of course Remus worried, at times, about what lay ahead for Harry. He tried to remember being nineteen. Remus remembered things that had happened to him, conversations that had taken place, but any deeper self-reflection was too coloured by memories of subsequent events to really be trustworthy. Then Remus had had a sort of nervous breakdown in his early twenties, years he remembered mainly as a haze of dissipation and self-loathing. He’d learned, rather more recently than not, to objectively recognise that phase of his life as a response to profound trauma, an onslaught of clinical depression that went undiagnosed and untreated for years. Subjectively, he was still happy to keep on repressing. It terrified Remus to think of Harry going through anything like what he had at that age. In those fearful moments, Remus needed to stop, ground himself, and remember that Harry had something essential that Remus had lacked after 1981: a support network. Friends. People who loved him and would protect him without question. When he remembered that, Remus began to feel warm again. Teddy had people, too.

Remus transfigured a seat cushion so that Teddy could take his nap there, instead of carrying him up to the nursery. Remus and Harry both watched him for a while in companionable silence. He was surprised by Harry’s next words, spoken barely above a whisper. “I keep trying to get him to come out to things like this. I thought the Weasleys’ party would be good, because there’ll be so many people there, he won’t be the centre of attention or anything.” It took Remus a moment to realise that Harry was talking about Severus, not Teddy. “I’m not stupid. I know he’s not exactly everyone’s favourite person. But I think if they just tried to get to know him a little better — he’s not as bad as he seems. He acts a lot nicer, now.”

Harry instinctively believed that everyone would be as generous and forgiving as he was. He believed it so firmly that he couldn’t even imagine otherwise. Remus loved that about him. He didn’t say out loud that it reminded him of Harry’s parents, both of them, because he didn’t think Harry needed to hear it just then.

“I just think he must get lonely, you know? I only want to help. But then he’s always backing out of things. I was really surprised he showed up last night, actually. I might not have told him that you were going to be here,” Harry said sheepishly.

“I figured as much,” Remus said. “Harry, you’re a very kind young man, and I am so very proud of you. Sometimes, all you can do is keep offering your kindness. It’s out of your hands whether Severus accepts it or not. It’s enough to know that you offered.” Harry nodded, although Remus suspected he wasn’t convinced. “I understand why you think Severus must be lonely. You would be, if you were in his situation. I think I would be, too. But it’s important to remember that just because we feel a certain way about a situation, it doesn’t mean that other people do, too.” He used ‘we’ to make it seem less accusatory. It was a technique honed through years of friendship with Sirius Black, and it had served him well during his year of teaching.

“I know,” Harry said, sounding tetchy. “Hermione says the exact same thing.”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard this before, but Hermione is a very smart person. You should listen to her.” That made Harry smile again. Then he looked at the clock, unconsciously signalling that the conversation was over.

“It’s nearly one. Lunch should be ready soon. Do you think I should go looking for Snape?”

“Actually, Harry, if you don’t mind watching Teddy for a few minutes, I’d like to go have a chat with Severus. We haven’t had the opportunity in some time.” To be fair, Remus hadn’t exactly seized any opportunities, either. “I want to thank him again for the gift.”

“Oh! Sure. Right, I’ll stay with Teddy. Erm, you should be able to figure out which guest room he’s in. It’ll be the one with the door closed.”

As it turned out, all of the guest room doors were open. At first Remus was fairly certain that Snape had changed his mind and made an ungracious exit, but poking his head into one of the rooms, he noticed a rather Snapeish-looking black valise sitting open on the bed. He could think of one more place to look.

Remus tapped gently on the door that still had Regulus Black’s name emblazoned across it. “Severus, are you awake?”

“I am now,” Severus answered curtly.

“Sorry,” Remus replied, still whispering for no good reason. “May I come in?”

Snape spelled the door open in response, and Remus almost fell forward into the room. Bastard. Snape was sitting at the edge of the bed, giving the lie to his suggestion that he had been sleeping.

“Lunch is nearly ready. I just wanted to talk for a moment before we head to the party. May I sit down?”

Snape made an overly elaborate gesture as if to say, _be my guest_. Pure sarcasm. Remus perched on the bed as well, leaving an ample gap between the two of them. There wasn’t anywhere else to sit.

“I want to thank you for Teddy’s gift. Don’t tell Harry, but I think it was the biggest hit of the morning.”

“It was no trouble. The bottle was taking up space in my cupboard.”

“Only it was trouble, a bit, seeing as you came up with the idea on the spot, and then went all the way back to Hogwarts for it. That means a lot to me. And it means a lot to Harry. I want you to know I appreciate the effort. No one expected you to get anything for Teddy. You didn’t even know he was going to be here.”

“Try telling that to your son.” Severus smirked, drawing himself up straighter. “History will remember me as many things, Lupin, most of them not very kind, but I’ll be damned if I let History remember me as Severus Snape, the man who spoiled Christmas for a baby.”

Remus grinned. “Of course. There’s always posterity to think of. Nothing at all to do with how adorable said baby is. You’re quite good with him, actually.”

“That surprises you.” It wasn’t a question.

“Well, yes, to be honest.” Remus chose his next words carefully. “I never imagined you as someone with a soft spot for children.”

“I don’t mind young children. They say what they mean.”

“That’s true enough. And he’s getting more words every day. I’m already dreading the dressing-down he’s going to give me, just as soon as he figures out sentences. It takes thick skin to live with a toddler.” Severus only hummed in acknowledgment, so Remus thought he ought to make like a toddler and speak frankly. “Is that ‘hmm,’ you’re trying to brush me off so I’ll leave you alone, or ’hmm,’ you’d like to keep a conversation going but you’re waiting for me to be interesting?”

“Hmm, I am indifferent to your presence,” Snape shot back. Liar. If he wanted Remus to leave, he’d have no problem saying so.

Remus looked away from him and studied his surroundings. He’d been here before, but he still felt like he was trespassing in Regulus’ bedroom. Harry had done a bit of a cleanse, in that he’d banished any dust, cobwebs, mould, and Death Eater paraphernalia. Regulus wouldn’t have wanted any of that in here. Otherwise, the room was untouched. Just like Sirius’ room down the hall. For all the work they had done on the rest of the house, these two rooms remained pristine, everything _in situ_ , like museum pieces. Or shrines. One day, Remus would have to talk to Harry about the future of these rooms, using gentle and compassionate words. One day, but not today.

Remus examined the décor, the preponderance of Slytherin heraldry and Black family heraldry, and certificates and trophies and textbooks and quidditch equipment — everything that had signalled who Regulus Black was to the outside world. Remus wondered if there was anything in there that just spoke to Regulus, his taste, his style, the person he was in his private moments. Even if there was something, Remus hadn’t known Regulus well enough to recognise it. He felt an old, dull ache flare up; an ancient wound he hardly ever thought of, until it started to hurt.

“Do you want to hear an awful secret? I’ve never told anyone before.” No one except for Tonks. Remus wasn’t sure why he went there. In part, he felt a desire to unburden himself after so many years; in part a desire to shock Snape out of his gloomy silence.

“It sounds like you’re going to tell me either way. Proceed.”

Remus took a steadying breath, suddenly feeling a bit giddy. “I used to fancy the pants off Regulus Black. All of seventh year.”

“You and half the girls in Slytherin.”

That wasn’t the response Remus was expecting, but it delighted him. He’d taken a leap and landed back on solid ground. “I suppose,” he said. “I kept trying to contrive running into him at the prefects’ bath.”

“It’s not a communal bath, is it?” Severus asked, looking scandalised. There was just enough doubt in his voice to send Remus into a fit of laughter.

“Of course not. God, Severus, how many years have you worked there? It locks from inside. That’s why I had to come up with schemes. None of them ever worked, by the way.”

“Speaking as a faculty member, I’m relieved to hear it.”

Remus mostly got his spasms of glee under control. “Me too. I wouldn’t have known what to do if it had worked. My plans didn’t extend that far. Then, there was a bit of a scene just before the winter holiday. Sirius thought Regulus was following him around, because we kept bumping into him all of a sudden, when really I was the one trying to follow Regulus and Sirius just happened to be there with me most of the time.”

“Sirius Black thought that everyone wanted to follow him around.”

“Fair. God, if Sirius had ever found out, he would have tossed me into the lake. I think that was what made the crush so intense, you know? The fact that I couldn’t tell anyone.” Remus turned to look out the window, suddenly feeling heavy. “I always sort of hoped that we could become friends one day. After school.”

Severus snorted. “Regulus Black wasn’t a friendly person.”

“Perhaps not, but he was a good one, in the end.”

They were quiet for a long moment before Severus said, “Well, you certainly had a taste for the Black family, didn’t you?” That shocked Remus right out of his solemn remembrance.

“What are you trying to — ” he sputtered. “You think I fancied _Sirius_? The man whose hair I scraped from the shower drain for seven years? The man who ate mayo-marmalade sandwiches and left the crusts on his bedside table? The man who once broke his own nose levitating a tortoise?”

“He wh — never mind, I’d rather not know.” Severus’ eyebrows looked like they were trying to escape into his hairline. “That’s all very charming, but no. I was referring to your wife.”

“Oh.” Remus flushed. “I see. I don’t really think of her as part of the Black family. She certainly didn’t.” Remus gestured toward the door. “She hated this place. She was so uncomfortable here. Even more than Sirius, I think.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Severus said. “I once saw a footstool stretch out its leg to trip her on purpose.”

Remus clapped a hand to his mouth with a sound that was somewhere between a giggle and a gasp of horror. “Did that really happen? I hope someone caught that when we were baby-proofing the house.”

“If I see your child crawling toward any claw-footed furniture I’ll deter him, just in case.”

“Much obliged. Gosh, I wish I could tell her about that. She’d’ve felt so vindicated. And I _really_ wish she could have been here the day we put the baby gate up in front of Walburga Black.”

Severus seemed unnerved. He wore an expression Remus thought he remembered seeing before, maybe, but he couldn’t recall when or why. “I apologize,” he said. “I should not have mentioned her so thoughtlessly. It was crass.”

“Don’t be silly,” Remus said, and Severus frowned, having perhaps never been called ‘silly’ before in his life. “I like talking about her. Especially funny stories. I like to laugh when I think about her.” He swallowed the lump that threatened to form in his throat. “And I want to teach Teddy to smile when he thinks about his mum.”

Severus offered no verbal response. Remus thought he might be a bit out of his depth, here. He changed the subject.

“Are you planning to come to the Burrow for dinner? I’m sure a lot of people would be happy to see you there.” Remus was not sure of any such thing, but it couldn’t hurt to say.

“I think not.” Severus pressed two fingers into the space between his brows. “I need to lie down somewhere dark and quiet. In spite of its epithet, I don’t think the Weasley house fits that description.”

“Ah. I suppose not. Do you really have a headache, or is that just something you say to get out of going to parties?” Remus smiled. He hoped Severus would realise that he was teasing him.

“Both,” Severus said. “Chronic migraines, and chronic misanthropy.”

“My sympathies, then. I hope you recover soon.”

“From which?”

Remus pretended to consider this. “Both. _I_ would be happy to see you again sometime.” He realised it must be true as he said it.

“I’m sure we’ll run into each other sooner or later. It seems to keep happening.”

“Let me rephrase that. I’d like to see you again, on purpose.”

“Right.” Severus looked almost flustered, which piqued Remus’ interest. He stood up. “Well, there’s always next Christmas.”

“I didn’t know I had to schedule so far in advance. May I owl you sometime, in case you have any last-minute availability?”

Severus froze for a moment in the doorway, like he was straining to find the perfect retort. Apparently failing to land on anything, he said, “You know where to find me. I must go make my excuses to Mr. Potter before he tries to persuade me to stay again.” He hurried down the stairs.

“You forgot your things,” Remus called after him, snagging Severus’ leather valise from the abandoned guest room on the way down. He felt light and bubbly. He felt almost _mischievous._ He was looking forward to the party at the Burrow, sure that he would be in top form that evening. He’d forgotten how fun it was to needle Snape, and how _easy_ it was. James and Sirius had never understood; they’d always gone about it all wrong. All he had to do to get under Snape’s skin was be a little _nice_ to him.

* * *

**_Ten Year Reunion (1993): Severus_ **

They had been right, in essence if not in literal fact, when they said they would not see each other again. Ten years was a long time — at least, to a twenty-four-year-old it seemed long. Long enough to develop an entirely new persona. It was difficult to reconcile _Professor_ Lupin with the ersatz bohemian Severus had run across in the mid-‘80s. Much easier to recognise him as the schoolboy he had been before that, especially here in this place.

If Severus himself had not undergone any momentous, persona-altering changes, at least he was more self-assured. It was a different type of metamorphosis.

Truthfully, he hadn’t often thought about his tryst with Lupin over the past decade, but every time he did, there was one nagging thought that came back to him. Now, with Lupin back in his proximity, that small nagging thought was much harder to deny. _Why didn’t you argue with me_?

Severus had said, “We won’t be seeing each other again,” and Lupin had agreed without missing a beat. Severus had expected him to push back, to protest, if only for the sake of politeness. Despite all empirical evidence, Severus had Lupin pegged as a sort of vagabond hopeless romantic. He had prepared arguments and insults to defend against the expected onslaught of sentimentality. He never got to use any of them, and those pent-up words had clogged his mind the whole way home.

Lupin could have written him. He knew where to find Severus the whole time. At first, Severus waited for the letter, anticipating its arrival so that he could finally put his choicest insults down on paper. They had only grown more potent with age. But the letter never came. After ten years, he’d nearly forgotten about it.

Then Lupin arrived in person, and Severus was back on his guard. He studied Lupin when he could get away with it. It would be a stretch to say the man looked well, but he seemed less frail than the last time Severus had seen him. Different clothes, different hair, different posture. Maybe same Doc Martens peeking out beneath his frumpy robes. Wickedly, Severus wondered if he still went without pants under his tweeds and corduroys. Severus waited, waited for the moment they would find themselves alone, linger for a few beats longer than necessary, and Lupin would finally break down and talk about what happened, and Severus would finally be able to crush him.

The small nagging thought developed a rhythm as the year wore on. _Why didn’t you argue? Why didn’t you push me? Why didn’t you write me? Why didn’t you want me?_ The questions ran through his mind every time he had to speak to Lupin. He would never actually ask them, of course. Severus didn’t care to hear Lupin’s excuses or, worse, sincere answers. The questions were just for Severus. They added a little seasoning on top of a heap of resentments, a slight _soupçon_ of rejection that made this particular grudge especially succulent.

 _Why didn’t you argue? Why didn’t you push me? Why didn’t you write me? Why didn’t you want me?_ He let himself get comfortable with those words, turning them over and over until all of the edges were smoothed away. It became a favourite mantra for practising occlumency; words that sounded like heartbreak but had no real feeling behind them. The perfect shield. It was only after accepting that the questions had lost all meaning that he allowed himself to view the memory in the pensieve, where he’d kept it safe from the prying mind of Harry Potter. Not the sex, which was too mortifying to revisit, but the morning after. He watched Lupin closely as they ate dry toast and drank bad coffee. He searched Lupin’s face for some flicker of emotion, but he only saw what he’d seen the first time around: detachment. Boredom. That grocery-list expression. He cringed as he heard himself try to provoke Lupin, and he heard Lupin respond without hesitation. He watched Lupin draw him a map and walk him to the front door. The only time Severus caught any spark of feeling in Lupin’s eyes was when he sent Severus on his way, which had amused him. Had he been laughing at Severus? Severus hadn’t thought so at the time.

He went back. He forced himself to watch his own face the whole time. It made him queasy. His younger self was an open book, at least to anyone who knew how to read him. Back to the pivot point, where Lupin had agreed with him. Severus saw surprise written across his own face. Surprise, and — relief? There is was, just for a heartbeat, but he caught it and pinned it down for dissection. No anger, and certainly no hurt. He had been relieved.

He went back again. Surely, he thought, Lupin had been obtuse, if not cruel; hadn’t Severus said one thing with his words and another with his eyes? Hadn’t Lupin been the one to spoil the mood by ignoring his signs? And yet each time he watched, Severus saw the same thing. He said one thing with his words, and the exact same thing with his eyes. There was no mood. He and Lupin were on the same page. Lupin wasn’t being obtuse or cruel; he was respecting their mutually agreed-upon terms. The rest was a story Severus had told himself, repeated over and over until he believed it to be true.

Something strange happened when that grievance died. All the other resentments he held against Lupin began to unravel too. It was like he’d pulled a load-bearing ace from a house of cards. It felt good to free his mind of Remus Lupin. It was euphoric, and the truly wonderful thing was that Severus had achieved it all on his own. He hadn’t needed Lupin to come to him with some pathetic apology. Whatever Lupin might have thought or felt or remembered didn’t enter into it. Severus had never done that before. He had always believed too much forgiveness would make him weak, but he didn’t feel weak. He felt powerful. He felt in control.

* * *

**_Y2K: Remus_ **

Remus waited two days before sending an owl.

_Severus,_

_If your dance card isn’t already full for New Year’s Eve, I would appreciate your company. Teddy and I have big plans to watch as many fireworks as we can, but I’m cutting him off after midnight in Almaty. Come by any time after 7:30. Eat first, because I won’t have time to cook. We have a floo._

Below this he put his address and three checkboxes with “Yes,” “No,” and “Other (please explain).” He was chuffed when it came back marked “Yes,” and only a little put out when he realised he’d have to tidy up.

Remus didn’t quite expect Severus to actually come. He understood how Harry had felt, now. It was as if his brain was programmed not to trust Severus, even when it came to inconsequential things. Scratch that — Severus Snape had usually pulled through when it really counted. Remus couldn’t trust him _especially_ when it came to inconsequential things.

Remus had written ‘after 7:30,’ so by eight o’clock he had entirely given up. He sulked all the way through the fireworks in Abu Dhabi and was about to call it a night when the fire roared up and Severus Snape stepped into his sitting room, carrying a two-litre plastic bottle of clear viscous liquid and another made of dark glass.

He handed the plastic bottle to Remus. “More soap solution. Your son seemed to be going through it rather quickly.”

“Thank you,” Remus said. He looked around for somewhere to put it, and then placed it on the floor.

“I brought this, too.” He brusquely handed Remus a bottle of Veuve Clicquot. Remus gaped at the label, which read ‘1900.’

“Severus, where on earth did you get this?”

“I... inherited it from the wine cellar of one of my former acquaintances. This one was supposedly requisitioned from a dacha after the October Revolution, but there’s no documentation to prove it.”

“I can’t possibly drink this. I don’t even own a champagne flute, Severus.”

“That’s all right, a _coupe_ will also do.”

“Severus. This is too much.”

Severus scoffed. “I didn’t pay for it, and I don’t see the point of making a fetish out of it. Either we drink it, or it sits and moulders in my cellar until the next regime change. Anyway,” he added more pleasantly, “the millennium seems like as good an occasion as any.”

Remus didn’t say what he was thinking, that Severus ought to hang on to it until he had someone better to drink it with. He just took the bottle into the kitchen. “We’ve still got half an hour ‘til Moscow,” he said, reemerging.

“Excuse me?”

“Fireworks,” Remus said, pointing to the television set, which was flickering on mute.

“You get Russian television in your flat?”

“Mmhmm. It’s set to pick up signals from anywhere in the world. Broadcast only though, I’m afraid. Neat, isn’t it?”

“Is it magical or electronic?”

“Mostly magical, I think.” Remus frowned. “I hope it still works after midnight. Y2K and all that. Apparently all of the electronics are going to break.”

“Where did you get it?” Severus seemed intrigued. He was feeling around for wires at the back of the box.

“Tonks had it. She said she ‘knew a guy’ who fixed them up. I think they use them at the Ministry to monitor muggle news reports. Come to think of it, I’m not sure if I’m supposed to have one.” Remus shrugged. “Teddy mostly uses it to watch Australian cartoons at odd hours. We’re trying to get on a more consistent sleep schedule, though.”

“I assume you’ve put him to bed?”

“No, he’s just popped out to the offy, he should be back any minute.” Remus smiled. “Sorry, I would have kept him up long enough to say goodnight, but if he saw you he would be too excited to sleep.”

“If that’s true, he’d be the first person ever to respond to my presence that way,” Severus said. Droll.

“Nonsense. Why else do you think I invited you round tonight? I’m trying not to sleep through the millennium.” His heart started pounding, just a breath too late to warn his mouth. Remus needed a drink to retroactively blame that comment on.

“I assumed it was because you ran out of bubbles.”

“Well, between the soap and the champagne, I think I’m covered now.”

Severus sneered. “I had hoped you’d be above that feeble attempt at a play on words. It’s not technically a pun.”

“All right, no need to burst my bubble. Come on, you left me no choice. It was low-hanging fruit. Speaking of which, shall we break into that bottle now?”

“You don’t want to wait until midnight?”

“Fine. We’ll wait for Moscow.” Remus motioned for Severus to sit on the couch. Remus sat on the opposite arm. It was the farthest away he could get while sharing a piece of furniture with Severus.

“Is there meant to be sound?” Severus asked.

“It’s muted. Sleeping baby. Shh, now.” It was snowing in Red Square. Fireworks soared from the Kremlin and lit up St. Basil’s, and the snow on the spruce trees made the solemn Soviet necropolis look like a slice of winter wonderland in the middle of the cheering crowd. They showed St Petersburg too, where people toasted with vodka outside the Hermitage and dreamy lights shivered above the Neva. Remus lost himself in the images, aching with longing for places he’d never been. He came back to reality slowly. Severus was staring at him, unreadable. Remus cleared his throat. “Now can we drink?”

They went into the kitchen. Remus got two plastic wine ‘glasses’ out of the cupboard. “I don’t actually own any glassware anymore, sorry. The risk/reward ratio is too high. You do the honours?”

“It might be loud,” Severus said.

“That’s all right. If it wakes Teddy up, I’ll just pour a little in his sippy cup and send him back to bed.”

Severus popped the bottle open, and Remus swelled with the simple pleasure of watching the gas propel to the top. Severus poured rather expertly into the two cups, barely losing any champagne to the whims of gravity. Remus raised his glass. “Spasibo,” he toasted.

“Doesn’t that mean ‘thank you?’”

“Yes. Damn it. I wanted to seem cultured, but that’s the only Russian word I know. Well, I _am_ thankful for the champagne.” He took a sip and let it rest on his tongue for a moment before swallowing. “That’s nice,” he said.

Severus smirked. “This bottle traversed borders, changed sides, withstood wars and revolutions” — he raised his glass — “all so that Remus Lupin could pour it into a plastic cup and call it ‘nice.’”

“Mm. I can’t decide if that makes me feel very small, or very important.” He took another sip. “You know, you were right. Why shouldn’t we drink it tonight? A hundred years isn’t even that long, in the scheme of things.”

“Oh? I’m sorry. I should have had the forethought to find something with a thousand-year vintage. That would have been more apropos.”

“Yes. You’ll have to step it up next time if you really want to impress me.”

They went back to the sitting room and Remus sank into the couch. Severus stayed standing and, after a few minutes, started openly snooping about. Remus felt rather exposed. He knew his home wasn’t especially attractive. He was on the second story of an old utilitarian brick building, Victorian-era flats that had been subdivided at odd angles to create twice as many flats in the mid-twentieth century. Remus had chosen it for its location, its fireplace, and the sunny corner room he used as Teddy’s nursery. Beyond Teddy’s room, there was not much in the way of décor; only some photographs he had acquired in the last five years, and books, which were also purely decorative at this point. Everything else followed function over form. The furniture came with the flat.

“Why Cardiff?” Severus asked.

“Why? Some kind of roosting instinct, I suppose. I was born here, you know.”

“Why on earth would I know that?”

Remus snorted. “Well, I was going to get maudlin and start telling you about my childhood, but that rather took the wind from my sails.”

“I thought the goal was to keep us awake, Lupin.”

“You’re mean,” Remus said fondly. He was happy to steer the conversation to safer topics. Happy for Severus to finally sit down and stop scrutinising his things. He spent at least a quarter-hour flexing all of his Cardiff trivia before that well ran dry, and then ten minutes on whether the UK quidditch team would make it to the upcoming Sydney Olympics. Then Remus, still thinking about the thousand-year wine, asked Severus if he’d ever heard the rumour that Helga Hufflepuff’s wine cave was buried somewhere deep beneath Hogwarts. “I personally think it’s just a myth,” Remus said. “If it had existed, we would have found it.” No need to clarify who ‘we’ meant. Then it was just about time for Athens.

They tuned in to watch the fireworks flaring around the Acropolis. Remus turned the sound on, just barely, so that they could hear the choirs singing. They caught a bit of Cape Town, too. The sky looked bigger there, somehow, without the weight of winter clouds hanging above the city. Remus liked the way the fireworks reflected on the water. He could almost smell the sulphur and sea air floating on the wind. He closed his eyes and thought about summer.

“I left the champagne in the kitchen,” Remus said, opening his eyes again. He got up, intending to retrieve it and bring it to the sitting room, but Severus followed him to the kitchen again. They still had half the bottle. Remus poured this time.

“Ya mas,” Severus said, raising his glass.

“Cheers,” Remus replied, leaning back against the counter.

“I’m not going to toast to the new millennium, so don’t even try it. Tomorrow is just another day with a different arbitrary number assigned to it.”

“Ooh, I like that. That would make a quite a good toast, actually. But no.” Remus looked into his glass for a moment, watching the carbon dioxide swirl. He raised it again. “To spending time together on purpose. Only took thirty years or so.” Severus clinked his glass, though it was really more of a plasticky _plunk_. Remus watched him finish his glass in one go and set it carefully on the counter. Then he grabbed Remus by the shoulders and kissed him.

Remus couldn’t hear over the sound of his pulse surging in his ears, but he thought he made a noise. He didn’t know if his heart was straining with panic or desire. It was a good kiss, sweet, sharp, like hundred-year-old champagne. It was warm. Too warm. He pulled back. He’d broken into a sweat. He could feel Severus’ gaze boring into him, but he couldn’t quite make eye contact.

“Sorry,” Severus said. “I thought that was what we were doing here.”

Remus giggled frantically. “I don’t know,” he said. “It might be. I’m sorry. This just feels so sudden.”

Severus drew back further, frowning. “You do remember that we’ve done this before, don’t you?”

“What? Yes, of course I remember. Well, as much as I’m capable of remembering. I was” — he gesticulated vaguely — “high as a kite, you know.”

Severus had not known. Remus could see it in his face. Severus looked nearly as anxious as Remus felt, his lips pressed into a thin white line. Remus didn’t know what to do with that. He’d never seen an expression like that on Snape’s face. He wanted to kick himself. He kept babbling. “I remember scaring the hell out of my flatmate’s girlfriend when I walked into the kitchen without my glamour up. And eating toast, and being sick on the pavement as soon as you’d turned the corner. I think I spent the whole day vomiting, actually. And into the next night. But not because of you! Before that, it wasn’t bad. It was good, I mean. It was fun. I had a nice time. I’m sorry, excuse me, I need to go check on my son now.” Remus ducked away. Severus was just watching him, not saying anything.

“You can stay. Sit.” Remus swallowed. “I mean, you should stay. I want you to stay.” He stepped back toward Severus, clapping him awkwardly on both arms and looking him in the eye. “Please, don’t leave. I’ll be back. I just need a moment. Would that be okay?” Severus nodded stiffly. Remus would have to accept that.

First, Remus detoured to the loo to splash his face with cold water. He didn’t bother looking in the mirror. Then he slipped into Teddy’s room. His child was fast asleep, fingers curling softly in his black and yellow quilt. Remus watched him for a while, wondering what he was dreaming about. He couldn’t wait until Teddy would be able to describe his dreams. Selfishly, he wanted to wake Teddy up and hold him close, but it wouldn’t be right to interrupt that perfect slumber just because Remus wanted comfort. This was his mess to fix, not Teddy’s. He would just stay there a little longer, until he felt calm enough to face the bewildering man who was, possibly, still waiting in his sitting room.

When Remus reemerged, he joined Severus on the couch. He noticed that the Veuve Clicquot bottle was now empty. “Thank you for not leaving,” he said. “I really am sorry. You surprised me. I guess I hadn’t thought things all the way through when I invited you here. And then... I don’t really like to dwell on that time in my life. But not because of you.” He stared at his hands. “Will you stay for Rome?”

“I’m going to go use the toilet,” was Severus’ response.

“Oh. Right. First door on the left.” Remus waited, feeling chastised.

Severus came back. “I’ve always wanted to ask. What did that man do?”

“Who?” Remus asked.

“The one at the bar, back in Manchester. You told me he was bad news. Were you just trying to get in my way, or did you know something?”

“Oh. Him.” Remus wrinkled his nose. “He locked me in a closet.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I know. Ironic, right?” Remus noticed a hangnail while he was contemplating his hands. He chewed on it. “I spent a week at his house while his wife was out of town, but she came back a day early to surprise him. He was so surprised he shoved me into the bedroom closet and told me to keep my mouth shut. I had to listen to them having sex. It was horrible. I felt so sorry for her the whole time. He probably got off on it. Come to that, maybe he planned the whole thing. God, I never even thought about that before.”

“You stayed in there?”

“I could have apparated out at any time, but he didn’t know that. I guess I could have just started yelling, too, but I thought that might turn ugly for me. I didn’t want to apparate. I wasn’t thrilled at the idea of coming back again to obliviate him. And,” he lowered his voice, “I guess I sort of wanted to know how long he would leave me there. Part of me couldn’t believe it was really happening. It felt like the set up for a sick joke.”

“How long _did_ he leave you there?” Severus’ voice was low, too. Dangerous.

“Seven hours. He cut it pretty close. I was just getting ready to take a shit in his dress shoes.” Remus risked glancing up at Severus again. Severus looked _furious_. It made Remus feel warm inside.

“I suppose I owe you my thanks, then,” Severus said slowly. “For intervening when you did.”

“I only did it out of spite for him, but you’re welcome.”

“If I had known all of this back then — ”

“Oh, no. If you’d killed him, I could never have shown my face at that bar again, and I _liked_ it there. The bartenders were nice. One of them used to sneak me free shots, and she was a lesbian, so I knew she wasn’t trying to take advantage. I wish I could remember her name.” He frowned. “I hope she never got in trouble over the free drinks.”

“He’s lucky it wasn’t a full moon when he decided to make his little power play,” Severus said, sounding as if _he_ didn’t consider it lucky at all. Grim. As if Remus hadn’t thought about that a thousand times since.

“I don’t want to talk about the moon. Can I ask a question now?” Severus shrugged, a gesture that made him seem younger than he was. “What brought you there that night? Don’t try to tell me you just happened to be in the neighbourhood.”

“I didn’t get out much, but when I did I made sure never to visit the same place twice.” Severus smiled wryly. “What did it _look_ like I was doing there? I might have been a miserable schoolmaster, but I was still twenty-four. I would never have gone to Manchester if I’d known I might run into you, by the way.”

“Twenty-four,” Remus sighed, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “Thank Christ that’s all in the past, now.”

“Ah, but your lifestyle back then seemed so _glamorous_. That was another thing I wondered about. Where did you transform when you were living in that abysmal cell?”

“Old bomb shelter. I didn’t sleep at home half the time anyway, so no one noticed when I left on the full moon.”

“The perfect cover.”

“In a way, yes. I spent so many years trying to hide in isolation, but I always felt my secret was safest when I was surrounded by people who were utterly apathetic to my existence.” How had Severus tricked him into talking about this? Hadn’t he just said he wasn’t going to?

“And where do you transform now?”

“Grimmauld Place. Teddy stays here. Sometimes Harry and I switch places, but usually Teddy’s grandmother comes instead. Harry is really wonderful with Teddy, very responsible, but it’s a lot to ask him to babysit for a whole night every month.”

Severus smirked. “He would, if you asked him. I think you just don’t want to. I don’t blame you, of course. I wouldn’t entrust my flesh and blood to Harry Potter, either.”

“Stop. He knows what he’s doing. I don’t know where he picked up the knack, but sometimes I think he’s better with Teddy than I am.”

“I refuse to accept that.”

“Are you trying to boost me up, or just insult Harry?”

“Can’t I do both?”

“No. House rules. Compliments only. No insulting my friends unless I’m the one doing it.”

“Well, it was lovely catching up. I’d best be on my way now,” said Severus. Remus laughed.

“Hey,” Remus said. “It’s nearly eleven. I have a bottle of prosecco in the fridge. I know that’s a rather pitiful answer to the champagne, but I might be woozy enough not to notice the difference, now.”

“Wishful thinking. But, fine, we might as well.”

Remus retrieved the bottle and cups, and sat back on the couch, only a foot away from Severus. This bottle popped much louder than the other one had, as if to make up in enthusiasm what it lacked in quality. They watched the Pope bless the throngs in St Peter’s Square as fizz flew in every direction and fireworks illuminated the dome of the basilica. After that, Remus alternated between the Eiffel Tower and the Brandenburg Gate.

“À votre santé,” Severus said.

“Prost,” said Remus.

“Propino tibi salutem,” said Severus. Show off. They drank.

“You were right,” Remus said. “The prosecco is a bit of a let down.” He looked up through his lashes. “By the way, you can _tutoie_ me, if you like.”

Severus was staring at him, intense. Remus couldn’t look straight at him. He was adrift at sea. He knew that he had orchestrated things to end up in this place, but he couldn’t remember why. He hadn’t even worked out if he found Severus attractive, yet. How was that possible? Wasn’t it supposed to be a yes or no question? Remus didn’t know if he wanted Severus to stay, only that he really didn’t want him to leave just yet. He wetted his lips. “I think I’m ready to kiss again now,” he whispered.

Severus ran a featherlight hand over Remus’ jawline. “It isn’t too soon?”

“No,” Remus said. “An hour ago, it was too soon. Now is good. Tomorrow it might be too soon again, but we can cross that bridge when we come to it.”

They kissed, less gently than before. Severus pushed Remus back onto the sofa and climbed on top of him. Remus rested his head against the arm, cracked faux leather pressing into the nape of his neck. They fumbled pretty quickly out of their clothes, narrowly escaping rolling off the couch. Severus was smug when he discovered that Remus wasn’t wearing any underwear. Remus didn’t blush.

While Severus kissed behind his ear, Remus groped over his head to find the TV remote on the side table, muting the sound of barely audible German commercials and switching over to BBC 1. Severus paused to swig prosecco directly from the bottle. Remus took the prosecco from him and drank too, then tilted the bottle over himself and poured into the dip in his clavicle. The liquid spilled forth quicker than he’d anticipated, pooling at the bottom of his abdomen, leaving a cold trail down his chest. A few rivulets escaped into his pubic hair. He closed his eyes and shivered. He liked the way it fizzed against his skin.

When Remus opened his eyes, Severus was looking perplexed. “Why did you do that?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. Just something I’ve always wanted to try.” Remus felt his face heating up. “I thought maybe you’d want to lick it off me. If you’re not, err, into it, I can go get a towel.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Severus said, lowering his head.

“All right, well then don’t look at me like I’ve just grown a second — ” His words were cut off by Severus’ mouth, following the trail of prosecco down Remus’ torso. Severus worked slowly, moving in circular motions with the tip of his tongue. His hair brushed across Remus’ skin. Remus’ gamble had paid off. This was lovely. He felt himself grow harder, straining desperately towards Severus’ mouth. Severus paused, close enough that Remus felt his warm breath on the tip of his cock, then started working back upward again. He kissed Remus on the mouth.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel self-conscious,” Severus said softly. “I find you... difficult to predict.”

“ _Me_ unpredictable?” Remus retorted. “The man whose entire life is organised around the lunar calendar?”

“It’s not a criticism.” Severus lapped up a rogue droplet of prosecco near Remus’ left nipple. It tickled. “You are, quite literally, intoxicating.”

“Well, well. Now who’s going after low-hanging fruit?”

“Turn over.” Remus’ heart sped up. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he obeyed. He propped his elbows on the arm of the sofa and craned his head to look back at Severus, questioning. Severus took the bottle of prosecco and poured it down Remus’ back, giving special attention to the cleft of his buttocks, then plunged down to follow with his tongue. Remus heard himself groan involuntarily.

Remus clapped a hand over his mouth and tensed up. Severus froze. “Sorry,” said Remus. He pointed to the hallway. “It’s just — Teddy. Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this here.”

“Let me find my wand. I’ll cast something to keep the noise down.”

Remus sat up and turned so quickly he nearly kicked Severus in the face. “You are _not_ casting a silencing spell on my child,” he growled.

“Calm down, you clod,” Severus said with exasperation. “What purpose would that even serve? I meant on ourselves.” He fished his wand from his pocket and cast _muffliato_.

“Oh,” Remus said, feeling only a little sheepish. “Only, I need to be able to hear him if he cries.”

“Naturally,” Severus said. “Lie back down.” Remus stayed on his back this time. Now that the sultry, dreamlike atmosphere had been broken, Severus picked up his former task with alacrity. He alternated relentlessly between Remus’ arse and cock. Remus allowed himself to make a little noise.

Eventually his back began to cramp, so he pulled Severus with him to the floor. They improvised a little nest out of blankets and couch cushions on the rug. Remus pulled Severus down on top of him and they rubbed against each other. They carried on kissing for a while, and then Severus gently reached down to spread Remus’ knees apart.

“Wait,” Remus said, remembering. “I don’t have any protection. Shit. I’m sorry. It’s just been so long, and then, Tonks and I were using other methods...”

“And how did that work out for you?” Severus quipped, looking pointedly at the pushchair folded against the wall nearby.

“Shut up,” said Remus.

“Fortunately, some of us plan ahead,” Severus drawled. He sat back and reached for his robe, fishing a slim package of condoms out of the inner pocket. Remus flushed. He wondered if those were always in there, or if Severus had packed them specially for him.

“Oh,” Remus said. “I’m glad.”

Severus unwrapped one and then paused, frowning, “Did you really call your wife by her surname?”

“Yes,” Remus said. Why were they talking about this now? “It was what she preferred.”

“I see.” He handed a second condom to Remus. “I can’t help but observe that you’ve never extended me the same courtesy.”

“I’d hate to be discourteous. What would you prefer I call you?”

“I generally accept ‘professor’ or ‘sir,’” Snape replied.

“Of course.” Remus rolled his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Severus’ shoulders and pulled him close again. “Would you like to fuck me now, _sir_?”

Severus’ breath hitched. As soon as Remus was prepared, Severus took him in a rush of urgency. Remus threw his head back and _shouted_ for the first time in years. He was dizzy from the drinks. He felt like he was being driven into the earth and floating on a cloud at the same time. Light and dark flashed behind his eyelids. He sank his claws into Severus’ arse, spreading his cheeks apart and pulling him closer, deeper.

Then, all of a sudden, Severus stopped moving, halfway inside Remus, and just _looked_ at him. “No,” Remus cried in frustration. “Stop that. What are you doing?”

“I want to switch,” Severus said.

“ _Now_?” The words barely made any sense to Remus, coming through the fog in his mind. He wiggled his hips, trying to get Severus moving again, but Severus only pulled back further.

“Yes,” he said. “I want to feel what you’re feeling. I want you to feel what I’m feeling,” and _that_ cut through the haze.

“Okay,” Remus said weakly.

Severus withdrew from Remus. Remus grasped for him clumsily, but Severus grabbed his hands and placed them back down on the floor. Severus began to touch himself. Remus followed suit. He recognised that he had lost any illusion of control over the situation. Finally, Severus leaned over him. He pressed both of Remus’ shoulders back against the cushion and bore down on him. Remus gasped.

Severus kept Remus’ hands pinned while he rode him, but Remus was free to explore his body with his eyes. It was a softer body than he remembered, more weathered yet better cared for, no longer encumbered by chains of fear and anger. The stark black hair on his chest spread like an inkblot, a puzzle without a fixed answer. His stomach was a smooth basin that Remus wanted to pour into. Gradually, Remus’ gaze slid to the side. Fireworks were erupting over the Tower Bridge, scattering light across the churning Thames. The camera lavished attention on the newly completed London Eye and Millennium Dome. It circled around Parliament, the Clock Tower silhouetted by colourful flashes of light. The pyrotechnics crescendoed as Remus sank deeper and deeper. Remus snapped back to Severus’ face, meeting his dark eyes and bucking frenetically as he succumbed to his climax.

Remus was the first to break the silence as they lay together in a breathless jumble. “We missed the countdown,” he said.

“Are you disappointed?” Severus asked. Remus scented the double, triple, tenfold meaning in that question.

“No. There’s always next millennium.”

“Mm.” Severus was propped on his elbow, running a light hand over Remus’ upper body. Remus had the impression he was being _studied_. Severus touched a spot on his shoulder. “I remember this one,” he said, tracing his thumb over a barely discernible white scar. “From before. It was still healing. It looked as if you’d picked off the scab.”

“Yuck,” Remus said, feeling self-conscious. He pushed up into a seated position. “Come on. Up. You and I are far too old to spend the night on the floor.”

Remus led Severus into his bedroom. He rummaged in his dresser for the only proper set of pyjamas he owned, buffalo check flannel with black piping; very cozy and Canadian-looking. He passed them to Severus. “Wear these. Just so you know, Teddy might come in during the night.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a toddler with a newly developed talent for climbing out of bed. I always leave the door cracked open for him.” Maybe Remus was pushing a little, daring Severus to stay the night. Severus put on the pyjamas.

Remus woke the next morning with his arm curled around Teddy, who was repeatedly prodding his face with his precious little fingers. Remus must have been out like a light, because he didn’t remember Teddy getting into bed with him. He took stock and quietly thanked himself for brushing his teeth and drinking a glass of water the night before. There was another glass of water on the bedside table, which he downed with gusto. “All right, I’m up,” he told Teddy as he scooped him into his arms.

When he wandered into the kitchen with Teddy, Remus was startled to find Severus sitting at the kitchen table, reading the news and sipping a cup of tea. “I assumed you’d gone already,” Remus said.

“I made breakfast,” Severus said, and Remus looked over to find an entire quiche sitting on the counter. Show off. Remus got plates and cutlery and brought the quiche to the table. “You drink coffee in the morning,” Severus stated, indicating the cafetière.

“Yes,” Remus said, unsure how to answer that. He poured a cup of coffee for himself and milk for Teddy while Severus methodically cut the quiche into eighths.

“I brought a hangover remedy, in case you need it. My own recipe.” Severus slid a single-serving blue glass vial across the table to Remus.

“Cheers for that. I can’t tell if I need it yet, but I’ll take it. Teddy, you remember Severus, don’t you?”

“Pop!” Teddy said.

“I knew you would.” He fed Teddy a spoonful of quiche. Teddy signed for more. Remus and Severus talked about the weather while they ate. Remus was _enjoying_ talking about the weather. Unbelievable.

He stood to clear the table. “That was delicious, Severus, thank you. Did you really find all of those ingredients in my kitchen?”

“It’s a simple recipe,” Severus said dismissively. “I was forced to substitute milk and butter for the cream, but I worked out a passable formula.”

“Well, I’m passably impressed. I’m only concerned that you’ve raised Teddy’s expectations rather above my skill level.” Finally, when he couldn’t stall any longer, Remus cast _alohamora_ on the topmost cupboard and took out his medication, which he swallowed dry with his back turned to Severus.

“What are you taking?” Severus asked sharply.

“None of your business,” Remus replied. His hackles went up immediately.

Severus crossed his arms, mirroring Remus’ petulance. “It’s quite literally my business. Muggle medications never include potion interactions on the warning labels.”

“Gosh, I wonder why not.”

“Is it a pain reliever?”

“No. I find paracetamol doesn’t really do much on top of painkiller potions.”

“You’d be surprised. What is it, then?”

“It’s fine. I take it every morning.”

“You should know if there’s any chance of an adverse interaction. If, for example, you take a hangover potion with your medication.”

“I’ve never had any issues before.”

“Perhaps not,” Severus explained, as if to an especially obtuse first-year, “but certain potion ingredients could lower the efficacy of your medication. They might even nullify the effects.”

“I guess.” Reluctantly, Remus handed his citalopram over to Severus. “It’s an anti-depressant,” he said defensively.

Severus barely acknowledged this as he took the bottle. He seemed interested only in reading the label, not in the reasons Remus was taking it. Remus relaxed a little. “Do you have a quill?” Severus asked. Remus gave him a pencil. Severus wrote something down on a corner of the newspaper and tore it off. “I’ll have to look into it more, but nothing I see here raises any alarms.”

“That’s good, seeing as I already swallowed it. Are you really going to go and do research on it? Can’t you tell enough from reading the label?”

“Lupin, I’m not a pharmacologist.”

“All right. Fair enough. Well... thanks.” Lupin returned the bottle to the cupboard. He wasn’t sure what to do with all the spare aggravation he’d just built up, so he took it out on the pencil, gnawing it mercilessly as he cast a few cleaning charms around the kitchen. It wasn’t as sweet as the ones he remembered from childhood, which had probably been coated in lead paint. Damn safety regulations. “By the way, did you go out this morning?”

“No. Why?”

“I don’t subscribe to the _Telegraph_.” He frowned. “Severus, did you steal my neighbour’s newspaper?”

“No, they can have it back. I’ve finished with it.”

“Honestly. It’s bad enough I’m the neighbour with the baby, and the neighbour with all the guests who are never seen coming or going, and the neighbour with a strange affinity for nocturnal birds of prey. I can’t afford to become the resident mail thief, too.” He gave up on charms and resigned himself to scrubbing a particularly stubborn stain by hand.

“I’ve got it,” Severus said abruptly, like Archimedes in the bathtub.

“Whaaauuoo?” Remus asked. He removed the pencil that was still clenched between his teeth. “Sorry. What have you got?”

“That. You have a tell, when you’re agitated.” He pointed at the battered pencil, smirking. “Oral fixation.”

“Is that so?” Remus rolled his eyes so hard they nearly got lost in the back of his head. “You do know Freud was full of shit, right?”

“I believe the correct terminology for that condition is ‘anal retention.’”

Remus snorted. “Please refrain from using that kind of language around my child.”

“You just said ‘shit,’” Severus pointed out.

“Not _that_ kind of language. I meant the language of Freudian psychoanalysis. They’re like sponges at this age, they are, and I wasn’t planning to introduce feminist literary criticism until pre-school.”

Severus actually laughed, even though he covered his mouth while he did it. Remus thought making Severus Snape laugh was an infinitely more impressive achievement than identifying some imaginary neurosis. Remus was back in the lead. He reached out to high-five Teddy, who was still mastering the skill. Teddy reciprocated, more or less hitting the centre of Remus’ palm. God, his baby was _so_ cool. Another point for Team Lupin.

* * *

**_1 April, 2001: Severus_ **

Severus’ first time brewing Wolfsbane potion in the presence of both Lupins was, in itself, nerve-racking. He really didn’t need the added stress of the first quarter moon falling on Remus’ _favourite_ holiday. Severus had risen before dawn to begin the process. He could only hope that, it being a Sunday, Remus would sleep in and give him a few solid hours of uninterrupted work.

For more than a year, Severus had been brewing Wolfsbane and delivering it via a sort of dead drop at 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry was more than happy to facilitate the transfer; happy to see Severus behaving so magnanimously. In fact, his happiness rather embarrassed Severus. Harry assumed that he and Remus were not on speaking terms, which only made him esteem Severus’ supposed altruism all the more. Neither of them had disabused Harry of that notion. When Severus asked why not, Remus had answered, “I like telling you all the nice things he says about you behind your back.”

This would be Remus’ first month transforming away from Grimmauld Place since the war. If he was anxious, he didn’t let it show. Severus asked Remus what he had told Harry. “I told him I made other arrangements,” Remus said.

Really, it was a wonder Remus had never gone out for the quidditch team. He was highly skilled at dodging.

There was the additional challenge of brewing such a complex potion in a muggle-style kitchen. Severus had less space to work with, and every surface had to be triple cleaned to ensure there were no lingering traces of toxic substance. They had taken extra precautions, bringing Teddy’s breakfast up to the bedroom the night before so that there would be no risk of cross-contamination with the stewing aconite. That would buy Severus even more time. Nevertheless, he’d expected to have shooed Teddy out at least twice by now. It was past ten o’clock.

As if on cue, Remus appeared in the kitchen looking harried. “Severus,” he said. “I was trying to put this off as long as possible, because I know you need to focus on your work today. I’ve tried coming up with my own solutions but nothing is working and poor Teddy can’t take it much longer. Please, keep brewing, you don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of everything. I just wanted you to know that someone’s on their way over to help us out.”

“What are you on about?” Severus asked. He felt the cold prickle of fear creeping into his body. Thankfully he was at a simmer stage with the potion. Still, he kept glancing at the timer above the stove.

“It’s nothing, it’s stupid, really. Only, I was hoping to fix it before you found out, because it doesn’t exactly make me look like Father Of The Year.”

The prickle intensified. “Remus, what did you do?”

“Nothing! Well, nothing on purpose. God, I feel like such an idiot. Okay, so you know that today is April Fool’s Day, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“And you remember that Teddy and I are having tea at Grimmauld Place later on? Well, I was planning to play a little joke on Harry. You know, cheer him up, set a good example for Teddy…”

“You and I have very different ideas about what ‘setting a good example’ means. Get to your point.”

“Right. So, do you remember that gag gift the Weasley twins came up with during the war? They called it U-No-Poo. It, erm, it sort of causes, you know, stoppage, that is to say — ”

“Yes, Lupin, I understand the premise of the joke.”

“Well, I got a jar of it and — don’t look at me like that, I wasn’t actually going to give him any! I was going to make him _think_ I’d slipped him some, which is really much funnier than actually doing it. But here’s the thing. I woke up this morning and, well, the thing is Teddy must have found the jar while I was still sleeping, because it was upended on the floor, and I have no idea how many he ate, but he says he has a stomach ache and he hasn’t gone all morning.”

“He _what_? Of all the stupid, foolish, harebrained…” Severus tried to sweep past Remus, but Remus blocked him at the threshold.

“No! I told you I was taking care of this. You need to stay here and focus on your work. I’m only telling you because I called George Weasley, and he should be over any minute with the remedy. I’ll keep him out of your hair, I promise.”

“ _You did what?_ ” Severus was already at his wit’s end, and now Lupin was bringing a _Weasley_ into it? “Why in God’s name didn’t you come to me sooner? I could have a simple laxative ready in half an hour.”

“Severus, please calm down. I wasn’t going to ask you to brew something for Teddy while you’re working on the Wolfsbane.” He made a valid point, God _damn_ him. It still stung that Remus hadn’t come to him first. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose.

He felt suffocated by all the unspoken words hanging in the air. Why this, why today? Severus doubted that Weasley would let his presence in the kitchen go unremarked upon. Severus and Remus had both known word would get out eventually, likely rather sooner than later, but Severus hadn’t expected that the rumour mill would start with George Bloody Weasley. And not _today_. Severus was so livid he could barely look at Remus. The only thing keeping him from a full-blown tantrum was his concern for Teddy, which obliged him to keep his temper under control. That, and the exceedingly delicate potion he was making to keep Teddy and his imbecilic father safe for the next week. And _Remus_ , Remus was…

…Remus was smiling like the cat who caught the canary. “You believed me,” he said.

Severus felt like the wind had been knocked back into him. “You.”

“Teddy is _fine,_ Severus. Jesus, do you really think I’m that irresponsible?” Lupin was laughing. Damn him.

Severus dragged a hand over his face. “Fuck you, Lupin. Was any part of that true?”

“Well, yes. I really am planning to try to induce psychosomatic constipation in Harry Potter. But no, not the rest of it. Honestly! The very idea that I would wait _hours_ to ask for help!”

“I take nothing for granted.”

“Fine, fine, I’m sorry,” Remus said, grinning widely. “I knew I’d have to come up with something pretty convoluted to actually catch you off guard. I thought using the other prank as a misdirect really sold it. Don’t you?”

“Yes, Lupin, you’re very clever. Are you waiting for a biscuit?” Severus glanced at the timer. With a string of colourful language that ought not to be repeated in polite company, he rushed back to the hob and peered into the simmering cauldron.

“What is it?” Remus approached timidly. He was done laughing.

Severus spun back around and levelled a ferocious glare at Remus. “Well,” he spat, “I hope your little joke was worth going without Wolfsbane this month.”

“What?” Remus went pale.

“Thanks to your _distraction_ , I seem to have waited too long to remove it from the heat. Now there’s no chance I’ll have tonight’s dose ready in time. I would have to start again from scratch.”

“Oh no. Oh, no, no, no, _no._ I thought — I timed it out to when the potion would be simmering. I didn’t think — “

Severus let his glare melt into a smirk. Lupin was lucky he was feeling so merciful. “I take your point,” he said. “That was rather amusing. Almost as amusing as pretending to have poisoned a child.”

“Oh, bloody hell, you nearly gave me a coronary. I guess I deserved that.” Remus didn’t seem angry. He rapidly got back to laughing, though it might have been nervous laughter.

“Yes, you did. And by the way, since you’re apparently so versed in brewing Wolfsbane, why don’t I leave you to it next time?”

“You’re just full of jokes today, aren’t you?”

“Don’t test me. Now get out of the kitchen, Lupin.”

“I’m going.” Remus backed toward the door. “Come and give Teddy a cuddle when you’re done? He’s been whining for you all morning. He wants to help you make the potion.”

Severus felt an absurd little quiver in the pit of his stomach. “Not this time,” he said. “He can ‘help’ when I make my next batch of pain reliever.”

“He’ll be thrilled. Hey, Severus? I hope you know that if anything were to actually happen with Teddy, I would come to you straight away.”

It warmed Severus to hear him say so, even though he still assumed Remus meant _after Andromeda, and Harry, and maybe St. Mungo’s_. “I should hope so,” he said, trying to quash the little quiver. “Oh, Remus, one more thing before you go.” Severus summoned a small pink vial and motioned for Remus to take it. “Hiccoughing solution. Give it to Potter and tell him it’s an antidote for the constipation.”

Remus grinned. “You’re terrible. Why do you have this on hand, anyway?”

“It’s useful for getting out of boring conversations.”

“All right, Severus, I can take a hint.” Remus pocketed the vial and ducked out of the kitchen, still laughing.

Certainly there were disadvantages to brewing in the kitchen, but there were unique advantages, too. Like strong arms wrapping around his waist and Remus’ voice whispering in his ear that he was very, _very_ sorry and would do _anything_ to make it up to him. Like acquiring a junior assistant who excelled at counting, sorting, sprinkling, and crushing (according to his CV). Like sitting down with Remus while he took the Wolfsbane potion, and pouring fruit juice into a potions flask for Teddy so he wouldn’t feel left out, and watching Teddy squeal with laughter when Remus grimaced at the taste. Like the look on Remus’ face when Teddy stretched out his tiny hand for Severus to high-five him.

* * *

**_22 January, 2000: Remus_ **

Their second rendezvous was the evening after the full moon. It was a bit of a risk, but Remus seized the opportunity and asked Andromeda to keep Teddy an extra night while he recovered. He felt rather conniving, making her an unwitting accomplice to his scheme. Remus made a risotto before Severus came over. He wondered how many variations on risotto he could go through before Severus figured out it was the only respectable dish he knew how to make.

 _If_ he had Severus over again, of course.

Severus came through this time with a far less rarified Malbec and another refill on bubble soap, even though Teddy had plenty left. “Wonderful. Thank you,” Remus said. He went into the kitchen, where he absentmindedly decanted the soap into two glasses. After that he allowed Severus to usher him to his seat and serve the meal, only half-heartedly protesting that _he_ was supposed to be the host.

“I had a thought,” Remus asked. “Do you think I could use some of that bubble soap in Teddy’s bath?”

“You could, if you don’t have any other plans for the day. Personally, I would have better things to do than individually banishing each bubble in the bath.”

“Oh _no_. I hadn’t thought of that. See, I’m glad I asked first.”

Severus regaled Remus with stories about the Hogwarts faculty while he pecked at his middle-of-the-road risotto and very good wine. Remus liked hearing stories about what Minerva got up to as a cat. He’d always wondered if she was friends with the other cats at Hogwarts. Most of the cats Remus had met didn’t actually like other cats. That-Pestilential-Rat-Pettigrew had brought a cat when they started at Hogwarts, but after he mastered the Animagus transformation he had decided to fake a sudden-onset allergy and find a new home for poor Butterscotch. Remus had been secretly devastated, because he liked resting his head on Butterscotch’s ample stomach and listening to him purr when no one else was around. Remus had always wanted a cat, but he was worried it would recognise him as a wolf and be afraid of him. Maybe it would hiss and spit and attack him. Had Minerva ever attacked anyone as a cat? Did she ever go out stalking by starlight? Had Minerva McGonagall ever eaten a toad? Would she be put on probation if she ate a student’s toad?

“Lupin, are you sleeping?”

“No,” Remus said, snapping his head up.

“Liar. I’ve been reciting the recipe for Amortentia for the past three minutes.”

“Oh. Well, you shouldn’t have done that. That’s dangerous knowledge, and I am weak-willed.”

“Lupin, you need to sleep.”

“No!” Remus cried, a little panicked. He had such a nice evening planned. He had only finished half his glass of wine.

“Lupin, you look like half an Inferius right now. I will not be responsible when you pass out and concuss yourself. Go to bed.” He softened a little, or maybe Remus’ vision was just blurring. “I’ll stay until you wake up. That is, if you want me to.”

“Cheers. You know just what to say to make me feel sexy.” Nevertheless, he let Severus guide him to bed. “Tuck me in?” he asked, already half asleep.

Remus woke up just after nine in the evening, which was a terrible hour to wake from a nap. He lay in the dark, feeling heavy and disoriented, tempted to just go back to sleep until morning. He was drawn out, however, by the faint light creeping in from under the door. Severus was stretched out on the sofa, reading. He shifted his legs so that Remus could sit beside him.

“ _Candide_?” Remus questioned.

“Yes. I read it when I was thirteen. It’s far more frivolous than I remembered.”

“I think it was rather intended to be,” Remus said. “You do strike me as a bit Voltairean, now that I’m thinking about it. Before, I would have pegged you as a Hobbes man.”

“Why? Because I’m nasty, brutish, and short?”

“You’re not short,” Remus said, yawning.

“And I would have pegged you as a Dale Carnegie man.”

“Ha! A palpable hit.” Remus adjusted his position, coming to rest his head on Severus’ thighs. Severus put the splayed book down over Remus’ face.

“Do you still cut up books and only keep the parts you like?” Severus asked.

“Do I look like a man who has time to read?” Remus yawned again. “Besides, I never did that. Not literally. The only one here who’s ever mutilated a book is you. Well, and Teddy, but that Peter Rabbit had it coming.” Remus pulled _Candide_ off his face. Severus, above him, looked sober.

“I hadn’t known if you ever received that owl,” Severus said.

“Yes, I got it, you reckless numpty.” Remus smiled fondly. “It was one of best gifts I ever got.”

Severus’ eyebrows rose. “How’s that?” he asked.

“All right, if we’re going serious on each other now. At first I was absolutely furious. I knew I shouldn’t have provoked you, but I certainly never thought you’d actually respond. Since I thought we were enemies at the time, I took it as a veiled threat. I figured you were getting ready to blackmail me or some such. Then I thought about it longer, and I realised you were teasing me.” He reached up and squeezed Severus’ hand. “And in my experience, mortal enemies don’t usually trade in inside-jokes. It was like a secret message, just for me, that you were still on our side.”

Severus looked ashen. “If you really got all of that out of my message,” he said, “then I was a careless fool for sending it.”

“Probably,” Remus agreed. “I was only eighty, ninety percent sure, though. And of course, I never told anyone, not even Tonks, though I wished I could. If I’d tried, I would have either blown your cover or spread false information. Not to mention how awkward it would have been for me to explain how I knew.” He interlaced his fingers with Severus’. “You might have been a fool, but I can’t tell you how happy your lapse in judgement made me. It was like I had this massive weight on my soul and I didn’t even realise it until it was lifted. Knowing that we still had you, believing that you had a plan, that gave me hope. I can’t tell you how desperately I needed a bit of hope just then.”

“There’s no need to tell me,” Severus said. Remus drew their intertwined hands to his lips.

“So, that was what made it the second-best wedding present ever.”

“Oh? What was the first, pray tell?”

“Teddy.” Remus sat up. “I’m feeling very sentimental. Will you come to bed with me?” He stood, never letting go of Severus’ hand, and walked backwards into the bedroom, like people do in films. They fell on the bed, sharing tender, languid kisses.

Severus pulled back. “It doesn’t bother you?” he asked. Remus followed his line of sight to the framed photograph of Tonks sitting on his bedside table. It was his absolute favourite picture of her, a candid still from their wedding day of her head thrown back in joyful laughter. They hadn’t had any formal wedding photos, seeing as they hadn’t had a formal wedding, but they got the idea to obtain a pair of polaroid cameras and document the day themselves. That had turned into a game spanning several days in which they each tried to catch each other unawares in increasingly ridiculous situations. They used ordinary, non-magical film, so that each image was a sliver of a single moment, a tiny immutable masterpiece.

“No,” Remus answered truthfully. “It doesn’t bother me. Does it bother you?”

“I don’t know,” Severus said. Remus tried to recall if he’d ever heard Severus Snape utter that sentence before. “It does, a bit. Not that you have it there. Just, perhaps we could angle it a little away from the bed?”

“That would be all right with me,” Remus said gently. He reached out and turned the frame around, so that Tonks was facing the bedroom door instead. “Thank you for telling me. I’m glad you said something.” He touched Severus’ face. “One day, I’d like to tell you about that picture. It’s a funny story.”

After, they lay side by side in the dark, talking about nothing. Severus was lulled by sex and sleep into a surprisingly conversational mood, and Remus wanted to draw out the moment and hold it as long as he could. He felt wide awake. “What did you want to be when you grew up?” Remus asked Severus. “I mean, when you were really small?”

“First wizard in space,” Severus said seriously.

“That’s marvelous,” Remus said. “You’ve still got a shot at it, as far as I know.” Severus scoffed. “I wonder what would happen if _I_ went to the moon. Have you ever thought about that? I’ve thought about it a lot. Maybe I’d stay a wolf the whole time and only turn human on the full earth.”

“Did you watch the moon landing?” Severus asked.

“Yes, actually. I remember my dad being reluctant. He said it was because he didn’t want me staying up all night, but I think he was worried I would get upset. Or — I don’t know, something worse. It’s not like I grow fangs when I see the moon on TV, but I think my dad still had his doubts.” Remus was surprised by his own affection. His parents’ lesser foibles were almost endearing, at this distance. “Actually, I think it was my mum that wore him down. Dad didn’t really get all the fuss, but she wasn’t about to miss it. Some of my dad’s colleagues even ended up coming over, because we were one of the few wizarding families with a television set. Mum made a pineapple upside-down cake. It’s the only time I can remember having people round at our house. Honestly, that was stranger to me than seeing someone walk on the moon.”

“We went to my father’s sister’s house to watch it,” Severus said. “He passed out just after the shuttle touched down, but at least he was pretty jolly before that. His sister was the only person he liked. I nearly missed Neil Armstrong because of her horrible children, but I managed to get them fighting each other so that they would leave me alone for few minutes.” Severus seemed far away. “It was... nice, for a moment. It felt quiet, in my mind. Even with my father snoring and fifteen people crammed into the sitting room. They were all ignoring me.”

Remus felt a lump in his throat. He buried his nose in the crook of Severus’ neck. “That sounds like a nice memory,” he said.

“It is,” Severus said. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What did you want to do when you were young?”

“Oh.” Remus hadn’t been prepared to answer his own question. No one had ever asked him that, as far as he could recall. “I remember wanting to be a plumber for the longest time.”

If Severus was surprised, it didn’t come out in his voice. “Why was that?”

“Our nearest neighbour was a plumber, the summer we lived in Orkney. He fixed a lot of things for us when we moved in. I liked him. He told funny stories and he cursed like sailor. He had scars on his face, like me. Old shrapnel wound. And he had a son about my age, too.”

“You lived in Orkney?”

“Mmhmm. My parents got it into their heads that because it’s out of the way, it would be a good place to isolate ourselves. We only made it a couple of months there. As it turns out, a treeless island where everyone knows everyone else is _not_ the best place to hide a werewolf. Not to mention, I think they bit off more than they could chew with the old farmhouse we were staying in. I liked it there, though. I liked the people we met, and around the summer solstice it never gets truly dark, all night. I was afraid of the dark.”

Severus kissed the top of his head in response.

* * *

**_Winter Solstice, 2000: Severus_ **

“Is it time? Are you going to blindfold me now?” Remus had been asking about the blindfold ever since Severus warned him that there would be a surprise.

“Yes, it’s time, and no, I’m not going to blindfold you because we’re using a portkey.”

“Fine. I’ll keep my eyes shut, then.”

Severus had never planned a surprise before, and he had quickly realised what a headache the logistics would be if he didn’t let Remus in on the plan. That was why, back in October, Severus had informed a bemused Remus that he intended to surprise him in approximately two months, so he should clear his calendar. He realised that Remus should decide whether or not to bring Teddy along on the trip, so he had to answer truthfully that, no, there probably wouldn’t be much in the way of entertainment for a two-and-a-half-year-old. That gave Remus time to arrange for childcare, but it raised the question of why they weren’t going on the weekend, and Severus was forced to confess that the trip was timed to the winter solstice. Then, as the date of departure drew nearer, he had to reveal more details (pack lots of layers, muggle clothes only, wear your wellies, yes we’re staying in a hotel, no it doesn’t have a swimming pool, and by the way, do you happen to know how to drive a car? Never mind, just bring some muggle change for bus fare). By then he was fairly certain Remus would be able to guess where they were going, but Remus was still playing along.

“Have you got all your things?” Severus asked.

“I won’t know until we get there,” Remus answered.

“That will have to suffice.” Severus cast a disillusionment charm over both of them.

“What did you do that for?”

“Precaution. Come, your toothbrush is the portkey.”

“ _Excuse_ me — ?” Remus’ complaints were cut off as the portkey jerked them away in a nauseating whirl. They landed in a rather undignified pile in the middle of an open field. Severus rose quickly, but his trousers were already soaked with melted frost. He stuck out a hand to where he thought Remus was, intending to help him up, and hit him on the nose instead. “ — you turned my _toothbrush_ into a _portkey_? Do you have any idea how dangerous that could have been?”

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t forget it,” Severus said, not sorry. “ _Finite._ ”

Remus reappeared, red-faced and covered with splotches of mud. Remus looked around, frowning. “I can see why you used disillusionment now,” he said.

“Yes. It was amazingly difficult to find a covered landing place. When you said there were no trees here, I thought you were being hyperbolic.”

“I never exaggerate.” The annoyance was melting from Remus’ face. “Are we in Orkney?”

“Yes. Did you know there hasn’t been a working floo stop on the Mainland since 1968?” Severus pulled his compass out of his pocket and consulted it. The needle was charmed to point to the coordinates he had set. “The path should be just a few hundred metres this way. Where did you think we were going?”

“I’m not sure, maybe Finland. A few _hundred_?” Remus repeated with dismay, trailing after Severus.

They arrived in Kirkwall around noon and checked into their room. Severus was eager to put down his things and Remus was eager to eat. They cleaned up as best they could and found a café, where Remus managed to nurse a cup of mint tea for nearly an hour. By the time he finished it he was bright and cheerful again.

“This is so exciting,” Remus gushed. “I can’t believe we have two whole days here. I haven’t been on a proper holiday since — gosh. Tonks and I went to the seaside for a couple of days after we got married, but we were still on call for the Order the whole time. I did get to watch a gull steal her sandwich, though. Right from her hands!” Remus looked like the Platonic ideal of a muggle tourist. He was wearing a bum bag and carrying a polaroid camera. After lunch, they poked around St Magnus Cathedral and visited the nearby museum. Severus announced that they could only spare one hour. Remus must have worked out what the plan was, because he didn’t even complain when Severus dragged him away from taking an artsy shot out the museum window.

They caught the bus to Maeshowe with plenty of time to spare, but Severus was anxious, not knowing how many other tourists they would have to contend with. He’d arranged to come the day before the solstice, hoping that there would be fewer people. He would have preferred no people at all. Remus, annoyingly, kept reminding him that they were also tourists and that everyone was there for the same reason. They queued up at the Visitor Centre for tickets, like everyone else.

They still had time before sunset, so they walked around outside for a while, studying the massive earthwork that covered the Maeshowe cairn and admiring the surrounding scenery. “I remember coming here as a child,” Remus said. “It looked different in the summertime. You know, the inside is full of Viking graffiti. One of them says ‘I fucked here’ or something like that.”

Severus was horrified. “It’s a _tomb,_ ” he said.

“Yes, well, nothing stays sacred forever, I guess. It was already ancient when the Vikings got here.” Remus rubbed his hands together. He hadn’t brought any gloves. “I used to love that kind of thing. Archaeology, ancient history. I took Runes for a year at Hogwarts, but we never learned how to write ‘fuck.’ Not even ‘piss’ or ‘shit.’” Remus had noticed it amused Severus when he used foul language.

They entered the cairn before sunset. The inner chamber was dark, so the guide ushered them in with a torch. There were several other people inside, and Severus felt a bit claustrophobic. Remus was holding on to his sleeve as if for balance. Then, a beam of golden light pierced through the window, illuminating the back wall. As the sun travelled, the beam spread across the wall, lighting the entire surface. Severus watched as the carved runes gradually became visible, and wondered which ones were pornographic. The overlapping lines in the stone reminded him of the scars across Remus’ scapulae. His fingers twitched, resisting the urge to touch.

The guide explained how Maeshowe aligned with the sun during the weeks before and after the winter solstice, and talked through various theories about why it was built that way. Severus only half listened, having of course researched all of that before planning the trip. He was watching Remus, whose face was frozen in a small open-mouthed smile, rapt. The soft gold light was kind to his features. He looked young.

When the last of the sunbeam vanished, they emerged into the twilight. It had started to drizzle. Remus was in one of his contemplative moods. They didn’t speak on the bus back to Kirkwall. Back in town, they walked to an Indian restaurant. It was early for supper, but the afternoon sunset made the hour feel later than it really was, and they both needed to warm up.

“It’s the strangest thing,” Remus said. “All day, I’ve been looking about for faces I recognize. I’m not sure why. It’s been more than thirty years. I don’t know what I would say even if I did run across someone I knew as a child.”

“I don’t find that strange,” Severus said.

When they returned to their hotel room, it was only six-thirty. “What would you like to do now?” Severus asked. He was nervous. They had reached the first lacuna in his carefully plotted itinerary. Severus wasn’t sure how people did this. When had _he_ last been on holiday?

“Actually,” Remus said with a roguish smile, “there was one thing I had in mind.” Severus felt a rush of blood to his groin. They always seemed to come out of nowhere, these sudden fits of ardor for Remus Lupin. “Get your coat back on,” Remus continued, which was not at all what Severus had been anticipating. Irritated with himself, he waited for his lust to dissipate while he fastened his boots.

As soon as they were outside, Remus pulled Severus round the corner of the building and disillusioned them. “You gave me the idea earlier,” he said. Remus took Severus by the hand and led him back to St Magnus, then crossed the street to the ruins of the medieval Bishop’s and Earl’s palaces.

“Will you tell me what we’re doing?” Severus asked.

“Sneaking into the palace,” Remus said. “I’m not sure which one this is, but I scouted a low spot in the wall earlier that we should be able to scale.”

“I am not going to do that.”

“Fine. Wait outside if you like.”

“You’re not using magic?”

“No, it’s more exciting this way.”

“If you break your hip, I’m leaving you behind.” Severus could hear scuffing sounds and laboured breathing, and he sorely regretted that he wasn’t able to see Remus making a fool of himself. After a minute, he heard a heavy thud on the other side of the wall. “Did you land on your feet?” he asked.

“Yes. Do you want me to levitate you over?”

“No!” Severus cried in alarm. “You are _not_ going to levitate me blind. I’ll do it myself.” He followed after Remus, feeling ridiculous. To add injury to insult, he miscalculated and banged his shin on the wall on his way over it. He was very grateful to be imperceptible. It was a bit like playing blindman’s buff, trying to keep up with Remus as he explored every nook, cranny, window and staircase within the ruins. Severus was getting flustered, and he didn’t like to be flustered. Doubly so when they reached another part of the perimeter where only a small iron gate separated the palace grounds from the street. When he pointed this out to Remus, Remus admitted he’d chosen to scale the stone wall because it was _fun_.

Just as Severus was becoming truly vexed, Remus said, “Hang on, stand still. Let me find you. I’m going to take your hand now.” Remus guided Severus, stumbling a little, to a section of the palace that still had three walls standing. “Thank you for coming with me,” he said warmly. “This is perfect. I haven’t had a really good sneak in a long time.” Severus recognised that Remus was offering up a different side of himself. _This_ was the boy who had given himself the ostentatious title of _Marauder,_ the man who had inspired devotion in two generations of Potters, the man who had yoked himself to Nymphadora Tonks. Severus found, to his surprise, that thinking about Remus’ marauding days did not make him angry. He could accept the mercurial streak in his lover’s personality, so long as Remus’ mirth was not directed at him. Severus might perhaps even _like_ it. He just didn’t want to be roped in as an accomplice.

When had Remus started kissing him? Severus was so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn’t fully noticed, but his body had dutifully responded. At some point in the past year, he knew not when, he had stopped finding it remarkable whenever Remus kissed him. Now they flowed with ease between states of kissing and not-kissing, like water changes from ice to steam.

Remus pulled back. Severus could just make out the condensation rising from his breath, mingling with his own. Remus muttered a charm, and fat snowflakes started falling in a small radius around them. “There,” Remus whispered. “That’s so much more romantic.”

 _Romantic_. Was that what this was? Romance? Remus wrapped his arms around Severus and kissed him again, so gently it made him ache. Severus kept his eyes open the whole time, staring through Remus at the Gothic-Romantic silhouette of the ruins. He could almost make out the outline of Remus’ body by the way the currents of vapour and snow moved around him. They stayed like that for a long time.

Severus, _of course_ , was the one to break away first. “I’m cold,” he whispered.

“Okay,” Remus said. He sounded hoarse. “Let’s go thaw.”

They exited by the gate this time. Severus, without thinking, climbed and swung his legs over the fence (only then remembering that he could do magic). Remus cast _alohamora_ on the gate and sauntered after him. When they got back to the hotel, Remus showed him a polaroid photo of a blank field of black with a blotch of tungsten streetlight. “I got a picture of you hopping the fence,” he said.

“You can’t even tell there is a fence,” Severus pointed out.

“Yes, but _I_ know what’s going on in this photo, and I shall treasure it always.”

The following day was the solstice. They had time for sightseeing during daylight hours, though Severus still kept them on a tight schedule. Their first stop was Skara Brae, the Neolithic village that had lain forgotten for more than four millennia before a particularly nasty storm stripped the earth away from it in 1850. Remus was brimming with enthusiasm, pointing out every small detail and slipping more than once into his long-disused lecture voice. Severus observed in Remus the mark of a true academic: he would frequently skim the signage, turn around, and regurgitate the information (with added commentary) as if he had come up with it himself. Severus itched to point this out, but he was rather enjoying watching Remus enjoy himself.

“This is the most incredible place,” Remus said breathlessly. “Out of all the Neolithic sites we know of — well, all the most famous ones, we assume, were ceremonial sites. Monumental places. Spiritual places, maybe. That’s probably why they survived so long. But this — these are just houses. Ordinary people lived here. There’s _furniture_ inside. Those ceremonial places, they were important to these people, but this is where they _lived_.” Of course Remus Lupin would wax rhapsodical about the ‘ordinary people.’ Ever a friend to the underdog, even among the long dead.

They went next to the Ring of Brodgar, which Remus declared to be his personal favourite henge. They spent a long time weaving in and out of the circle, searching for interesting graffiti on the stones. The sky was clear and bright, and there were lots of other tourists about. Remus and Severus sat at what they thought was a responsible distance to eat the picnic lunch that Remus had squirrelled away in his various pockets. From there, they walked across the land bridge to the Standing Stones of Stenness. It was windy, and a rather tiring walk, but Remus was in high spirits. Remus told Severus that the loch on one side was freshwater and the loch on the other side was saltwater, and that that was very interesting. He stopped to take a photo when the stones first appeared in the distance.

“You know that a lot of witches and wizards think that all these Neolithic sites were built by magic, and that they served some kind of magical purpose?” Remus asked.

“I’ve heard it once or twice,” Severus said dryly, thrown by the scorn in Remus’ voice. It was a theory, but it was a generally accepted theory in the wizarding world, as far as he was aware. “You don’t agree?”

Remus shrugged. “Honestly? I think it’s another thing people say to prop up ideas about pureblood supremacy. These sites _must_ be magical, because muggles couldn’t _possibly_ have had the skill to create them. Maybe they could figure out the heavy labour part, but they _couldn’t_ be sophisticated enough to work out the astronomy and mathematics all on their own. As if muggles don’t have the same sky and the same seasons as we do.” He was working himself into a lather now. Severus had the unbidden thought that Remus was quite fetching when he was being righteous. “Some crackpots even think that once they finished here, a handful of druids hopped across the pond and invented all the calendars in the Americas, too. Wizards _and_ muggles think that. It’s plain old-fashioned racism dressed up as scholarship. Never mind the evidence. What they really mean is that they don’t think indigenous people were capable of mastering astronomy like Europeans did. It’s all hogwash.”

At this stage of life, Severus felt that he was generally too old for paradigm shifts, but he found Remus very engaging. He was willing to look into the literature, in order to take a more informed stance. Severus felt a little thrill at the prospect of researching an unfamiliar topic. Another thought, unbidden: Severus wondered about who Remus Lupin might have been without the war, without the twin burdens of poverty and lycanthropy. Severus imagined him in a lecture hall, discoursing on postcolonial theory, not in some stuffy hallowed institution but at a muggle polytechnic where he would wear a baby sling to lecture and incite student workers to unionize. Maybe he would volunteer with troubled youths at the weekend. “You know,” Severus said, knowing that it would provoke Remus, “there’s a very fashionable theory, among a certain set, that the British Isles were entirely magical until those impure Romans came and mucked everything up.”

Remus snorted. “Yes, and I’m sure they also believe that Jerusalem was builded here.”

They reached the Standing Stones around two-thirty, proving that Severus’ timing had once again been impeccable. “We’ll be here until sunset,” he informed Remus.

“What happens at sunset? I don’t know this one.”

“You’ll find out then.”

Near to sunset, people began to gather by the Watchstone, which stood outside and apart from the rest of the circle. They looked to the hills on the near horizon. Over several minutes they watched the sun disappear behind a hill. Severus held his breath in anticipation. Then, after a moment, the sun reemerged between two hills, briefly appearing to rise again in the sky. Remus gasped and latched on to Severus’ arm. Remus had never touched him like that where other people could see them. Severus turned his head to say something, and saw that there were tears in Remus’ eyes. Severus turned back. He thought he’d better pretend not to notice. They stood transfixed after the sun finally set for the longest night.

“That’s probably why they put this stone here,” Severus said, which immediately felt like an inane comment. “That is to say, from this spot, the phenomenon is visible only on the winter solstice.”

“It’s ingenious,” Remus said. He was still holding Severus’ arm. Severus caught him surreptitiously wiping his lashes with his other hand. “Severus, will you take a photo with me, before all the light goes? I mean, be in a photo with me?”

“I don’t like to be photographed,” Severus said, hoping that his sudden anxiety was not evident in his voice.

“It’s all right if you don’t want to. Silly idea. I just thought it might be nice to have one with us in it.” He looked disappointed. Worse, he looked like he’d been expecting that answer. Damn him.

“Fine. One photo, if you can find someone to take it.”

“Oh! Thank you, Severus. I was going to ask those women over there — stop, for God’s sake, don’t point at them — I was watching them earlier, they were holding hands. I think it would be safe to ask them.” Of course, Remus had already thought it through and formed a plan. Damn him.

Remus approached the couple while Severus stood just out of earshot, feeling awkward. Somehow, asking for a photograph turned into several minutes of conversation, a burst of raucous laughter, and Remus taking what felt like an entire film roll’s worth of photos of _them_ before turning back to Severus. “Ready?” he asked, as if Severus hadn’t been waiting the whole time. Why did Remus have to be so damn _personable_?

Remus positioned Severus and wrapped an arm around his waist. Severus felt his face grow warm and was grateful for the purple twilight. “Count down from five?” Remus asked the photographer, because he apparently wanted to draw out this torment as long as possible.

“Five, four, three, two…” Remus grabbed Severus and kissed him. The other couple whooped. They insisted on standing by while Remus shook the polaroid in the air, chatting about hill walking, and Severus furiously tried to get his breathing under control. “Oh, look! Isn’t that lovely. I wasn’t sure we had enough light,” the photographer exclaimed as the image materialized.

“I’m glad it came out,” Remus said. “I was promised one photo, and one photo only.” He looked sidelong at Severus, affectionate. The other woman said something too, but she must have been a local because her speech was incomprehensible to Severus. Whatever she said made Remus smile. Finally they all finished thanking each other and exchanging platitudes, and Remus and Severus could go. They didn’t speak much on the bus back to Kirkwall, but Remus placed a furtive hand above Severus’ knee.

Back in their room, Remus pulled the photo out and held it to the light. He seemed far less confident than he had in the company of strangers. “I’m sorry I did that to you. It was selfish. I could tell you were uncomfortable.” He sounded like he really was sorry.

“I wasn’t _uncomfortable_ , I was trying to stave off an asthma attack,” Severus said. Partial truth. He wasn’t ready to let Remus off the hook that easily.

“Oh, no,” Remus said. Severus had expected contrition, but he wasn’t prepared for how _concerned_ Remus looked. It threw him off balance. “I didn’t know you had asthma,” Remus said.

“Yes, well, when you’re the most wanted man on two sides of a war, it’s rather inadvisable to let people know that you could be taken down by a pack of cigarettes.” Severus hoped Remus would recognise this admission of weakness for what it really was: a modest olive branch. He wanted Remus to stop looking at him that way. Fortunately, Remus seemed to understand, because he relaxed his shoulders a little.

“Well,” Remus said, “you being the most wanted man in this room at present, I’m glad you told me. Do you want to see the photo?”

Severus was not sure that he did, but he nodded to please Remus. He took the photo. Their upper bodies were blurred by motion, but their heads were more or less in focus. Remus’ face was angled toward the camera, obscuring Severus’ nose and eyes, hiding the shock he was sure had been writ large across his face. Severus had never seen himself like that. He looked soft, pliable. Their forms seemed harmonious with the landscape around them; harmonious with one another.

If anyone else ever saw that photo, Severus thought he would have plausible deniability. They looked like a pair of middle-aged muggles, benign and shapeless in their cold-weather gear. Severus felt he ought to say something reassuring. “I’m glad you got the photo you wanted. There’s no need to apologize,” he told Remus.

Rather than seeming comforted, Remus only looked more apprehensive. He was studying the skin on one of his knuckles, and Severus knew that it was about to go into the mouth. Severus wondered what he had said wrong. He was obviously dreadful at reassuring.

“I actually have something for you, too,” Remus said. The hand plunged into his backpack, instead of going into his mouth. “I thought I would give it to you before Christmas, if that’s all right.” He held out a padded envelope. “Just so you know, I was waiting to see if your surprise was any good before I handed this over.” This attempt at humour was undercut by the tremor in his voice.

Severus opened the envelope and slid out _Candide._ It was the same copy he’d read at Remus’ flat, but it seemed suspiciously slim. Severus opened the cover and found only the final chapter inside. His mind raced, trying to decode the meaning. He flipped through the pages. Underneath _The End_ , Remus had written a note in his favourite purple ink: _“I want to cultivate my garden with you.”_ His mouth went dry. He looked up at Remus, whose words burst forth like a dam.

“I think we should live together,” Remus said in a rush. “Hang on. I’ve thought this through. My lease is up in March and Teddy is starting to outgrow the space. I know you like living at Hogwarts, but I thought maybe you could commute on the weekends. If we find a house with a bit of extra room I shouldn’t have to go away on the full moon anymore. And I want to have a garden, that part wasn’t just a metaphor. Plus it makes sense financially. A house is a big investment but it’s better than leasing in the long run, and now I’ve nearly finished clearing all my debt I should qualify for a loan, and the relative expenses for a two-income household — ”

Severus cut him off with a kiss. He spun them about and backed Remus up against the wall, pressing their bodies together. “Lupin,” he growled, low and passionate. “Are you asking me to...” Severus leaned in close and whispered wickedly in Remus’ ear, “... _merge finances_?”

“Oh, _God,_ ” Remus groaned, “ _yes._ ”

Severus slowly dragged his mouth from Remus’ ear to the junction of his neck as he spoke. “Tell me what you want,” he urged.

“I want — _oh._ I want... I want...” Severus grazed his teeth against Remus’ throat. “I want a fully detached house, somewhere quiet but — yes, God, right there, please — but still connected to bus lines. With good schools nearby.”

“ _Lu-_ pin,” Severus drawled seductively. He snaked a hand down the front of Remus’ trousers. “Are you asking me to take you to... _the suburbs_?”

“Yes! Oh my God, yes!” Remus fumbled for Severus’ cock and began pumping it generously. Severus swallowed hard. “And I want a vegetable garden,” Remus gasped.

“I want a greenhouse.”

“I want a chicken coop.”

“I want a fruit tree.”

“I want a swing set.”

“I want a study with a roll-top desk.” Severus got Remus’ trousers down around his ankles and pressed skin to skin.

“I want a guest room.”

“I want a remodelled kitchen.”

“I want a pantry.”

“I want a solarium.”

“What’s that again?”

“Greenhouse, but for people.”

“Oh. Yes. I want that too. And a chaise longue.”

“I want a combination shower-bath.”

“I want a trampoline.”

“I want the Internet.”

“I” — thrust — “want” — thrust — “a” — thrust — “king-” — thrust — “sized” — thrust — “bed!”

Severus came in a rush, squirting onto Remus’ nice wool jumper. Remus followed a few breaths later, hitting Severus right under the chin. Remus licked him clean enthusiastically. Severus backed onto the bed before his legs could give way. Remus was still leaning against the wall, eyes closed, flushed, panting, absolutely filthy. “Erm,” he said after a minute, batting his lashes shyly, “that was a yes, wasn’t it?”

In the early hours before dawn, when Severus lay awake with Remus curled around his body, he forced himself to be realistic. Was he really going to make a go at living with Remus Lupin? Lupin, a man he had disliked for nearly three decades, and liked for just shy of a year? Lupin, who had blithely lied to his friends and family about where he was going on holiday, and with whom? Lupin who had touched him in public for the first time only hours before? Every way Severus sliced it, it seemed like a foolhardy plan. Severus knew he still had time to say no. He strongly suspected that he would not.

* * *

**_9 March, 2012: Remus_ **

Remus Lupin had survived some truly harrowing moments in the course of his unexpectedly long life, but few had ever jolted him like receiving an unscheduled floo call from Minerva McGonagall the night before his fifty-second birthday. Already his nerves were frayed from the full moon the night before; now they were seared with panic.

“What is it?” he asked a little too loudly. Severus was hovering at the periphery of the room, rigid.

“Everything is fine, Remus. Severus.” Minerva’s voice was steady. Remus began to breathe again. “I’m only calling because Teddy seems to be going through a rather bad bout of homesickness. He was… upset by something, earlier this evening.” Remus noticed her use of the passive voice. “He has my permission to travel home for the weekend, but only if it won’t inconvenience you.”

“No, of course not! We would love to have him here. Send him through.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ll just have him pack his assignments, and then I’ll send him your way. And Remus? Many happy returns.” Minerva always remembered his birthday.

Remus flew to Teddy’s room to cast a few cleaning charms, and put fresh linens on the bed in record time. While Remus was upstairs, Severus whipped up a batch of Teddy’s favourite ginger biscuits with admirable speed and precision. He was just getting them into the oven when Teddy stepped out of the hearth, trailing an oversized backpack. Teddy’s hair was flamingo pink. That was new.

Teddy scowled and crossed his arms, reminding Remus of nothing so much as a teenaged Harry Potter. “I’m not homesick,” he said. “I’m pissed off.”

“Language,” Severus said reflexively from the doorway. Teddy turned the scowl on him. Severus remained impervious.

They all sat at the kitchen table, where the smell of warm ginger and brown sugar began to soften Teddy up. Remus placed a hand on his shoulder, which Teddy shrugged off. “Did something happen at school?” he asked gently.

“No,” Teddy blatantly lied. Remus waited patiently for him to begin speaking. “This old man came in to visit our Potions class today. Err, Professor Slughorn. He said he had both of you as students.” Teddy’s face was beginning to turn the colour of his hair, and Remus really wished he would sit up straight and unclench his arms. “He invited some of us to tea in the Headmistress’ office. He said he wanted to meet all the children of his former students.”

“I see,” Remus said blandly. So Minerva was complicit. Remus had gone cold. He and Severus were usually quite adept at sidestepping any talk of their school days — at least regarding their relationship to each other. Remus wasn’t prepared to have The Talk tonight. No, not the birds-and-bees talk, which he had sat Teddy _and_ Severus down for before Teddy started at Hogwarts. The other one, the ‘one time I nearly murdered your father’ talk. “What did you talk about at tea?” Remus ventured.

“I asked him if he knew my mum,” Teddy said. Of all things, Remus had not expected that. “But he said he was retired by then. He said she was one of _yours_.” Teddy was glaring at Severus. Remus realised with guilty relief that he was not the focus of Teddy’s anger, this time.

“That’s right,” Severus said, and only someone who knew him very well would detect that his face had gone ashen. Remus and Teddy knew him very well.

“You never _told_ me,” Teddy cried. “You had Mum as a student and you’ve never even _mentioned_ it to me.”

“Yes,” Severus said. He stood up and turned around, and for a painfully tense moment, Remus thought he was going to storm out of the room. But he was just getting the biscuits out of the oven. “You’re right. I should have told you that.” He was still facing away from Teddy.

“Why didn’t you?” Teddy asked, sounding more plaintive than angry. “I want to hear about her.”

Severus cast a cooling charm on the ginger biscuits and brought them back to the table. He usually took a stand against magical shortcuts in the kitchen, but this was an emergency. “And I’d like to tell you what I can,” Severus said, “but I’m afraid I don’t have very much information that you don’t already know. She and I were never close.” His voice dropped. “Teddy, if I could have known back then that she would become… family, I would have written down every detail for you.”

His words seemed to soothe Teddy, just a little bit, but the biscuits were doing the bulk of the work. “Well, what was she like in class? Was she a good student?”

“Of course. She took my NEWT-level class to get into the Auror training programme.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“She was very quiet and studious in my class. From what I’ve gathered, that was not her reputation outside of class,” Severus said. Remus smiled, and Teddy almost smiled too, before he caught himself. “I think she worked especially hard because she knew that she would need high marks for her career plan, but I don’t think Potions was ever her favourite subject.”

“I can confirm that,” Remus said. “She hated brewing. Said she always felt like she was one wandering thought away from blowing herself up.”

“Yes, well, that would explain why she always seemed so focused on her work.” Severus was frowning, as if trying to retrieve something very far away. “I remember hearing early on that she was a metamorphmagus, but as I recall she hardly ever morphed during class. I suspect she was trying to minimize distractions. Sometimes, though, I’d catch her appearance changing subtly while she was brewing. I always wondered if it was a sort of unconscious reaction to different fumes.”

“Really?” Teddy asked, eyes wide. Remus hadn’t known about that, either. “That’s happened to me before, I think. Whenever we brew with wormwood I always end up a bit green.”

“That’s very interesting. Next time it happens, you should write it down. Maybe we can devise some experiments over the summer holiday.”

“Yeah!” Teddy said, seemingly having forgotten to be angry. “Maybe we can take a video so I can see if anything changes.”

“Perhaps. A pensieve would be more exact.”

“ _Really?_ You’d show me how to use a pensieve?”

“Well, we’ll see how the rest of your semester goes, first.”

“Maybe we can do a video _and_ the pensieve, and compare them side-by-side.”

“What an intriguing idea; I’ve never thought to try that. Make sure you write down all of these ideas for when we formulate our research plan…”

Remus felt warm again, like he always did when Teddy and Severus were plotting together. He let his eyes drift shut for a moment. He could listen to them talk all day, letting the sound of their voices wrap around him like a blanket.

“Dad, stop sleeping,” Teddy said, prodding Remus in the arm. He looked miffed, but not as hurt as before.

“I’m not sleeping,” Remus said, prodding him back. “But if I were, you should leave me alone. I’m an old man now. I can’t take this much excitement.”

Teddy rolled his eyes. “Papà never falls asleep at the table. If you skipped your after-moon nap, that’s your own fault.” His words struck Remus as a whisper from the near horizon. There would come a time when Teddy would chide him more and more often; when his son would become exasperated with him, worried for him, protective of him. Soon. But not too soon, Remus hoped. “Besides,” Teddy added, “you’re not an old man yet. Not until tomorrow.”

“Ouch,” Remus laughed. “All right, tell us more about your day. How was Professor Slughorn? I haven’t heard from him in years.”

“He was actually pretty nice. He was kind of funny. He seemed really old-fashioned, though.” Teddy smiled drolly. “He said he could tell which of you was my _real_ father as soon as he saw me.”

“Oh, God,” Remus groaned, burying his face in his palm. He felt a double-edged pang of familiar emotions: pain, knowing that his child would always be plagued by that sort of comment, and pride that he had such an easy sense of humour about it.

“But it’s ok, he said he was _always_ a ‘friend to the Homosexuals,’ and he doesn’t care who knows it,” Teddy continued, putting on his best Etonian. His voice broke on the word _homosexuals_ , because puberty was God’s great gift to comedy. It would have had Tonks in stitches. “Oh, and he said he was at a dinner party once with Liberace.”

“Is that true?” Remus asked Severus. Severus shrugged.

“He also said he knew I’d be the best Potions student in my year. I’m not, though. Abby Abdullahi is.”

“Did you tell him so?” Remus asked.

“Obviously,” Teddy said.

“Good on you.”

“I also told him people don’t really say _homosexual_ like that anymore. And I tried to explain about bi erasure, but I think that went over his head.”

Remus ruffled Teddy’s hair. He noticed Teddy kept the roots dark, to make it look like he had dyed it. Remus wondered if Teddy’s schoolmates actually thought that was cool. He thought it prudent not to comment on it.

“Dad, quit being embarrassing,” Teddy said, ducking away.

“Yes,” Severus deadpanned, flagrantly currying favour, “stop _embarrassing_ our child.”

“I will not.” Remus rested his hand at the nape of Teddy’s neck, and Teddy didn’t shake him off this time. “Have I told you lately how proud I am that you’re my son?”

“Only about a thousand times,” Teddy said.

“Good, then I’ll keep going. That’s not nearly enough. Have I told you I love you fiercely?”

“Yes, Dad,” Teddy said, stuffing a ginger biscuit into his face with a practised roll of his eyes. “You’re all right, too.”

* * *

**_7 December, 2004: Severus_ **

Severus woke from deep within his REM cycle to a wet tongue trailing along his jawline. “Go away,” he rasped, swatting. His hand made contact with a stubbled face and he heard Remus laugh. “Sorry,” Severus said, cracking one eye open. “I thought you were the cat. What the hell are you doing?”

“Waking you gently.”

“It’s pitch black. What is it, five o’clock?”

“Five-thirty. I had to get up early to get the jump on you. I brought you breakfast in bed.” The smell of coffee penetrated Severus’ consciousness. Remus tapped on the dimmer lamp beside the bed and then placed a plate of toast on Severus’ sternum. “Happy Anniversary,” he announced.

“What are you on about?”

“Twenty years ago today. Seventh of December, 1984. The first time we had sex.”

Severus only stared at Remus, trying to digest that information. Remus beamed back at him. How many years would they have to spend together before Remus stopped pulling rugs from beneath his feet?

“Twentieth anniversary is porcelain,” Remus said, pointing to the plate. “Here, don’t get up, I’m buttering your toast for you. Do you want blackcurrant jam or raspberry?”

“Both,” Severus said absently.

“Excellent! I like your style.” Remus spread both jams on a piece of toast and then fed a corner to Severus. “I’d like to think my breakfast-making skills have improved in twenty years, if nothing else.”

“How did you remember the date?”

“I didn’t, but I found an old calendar and worked it out. I knew it was winter, a weekend, and the night before a full moon. I sort of remember seeing fairy lights, although those could have just been in my head. Anyway, all of that means it happened on Friday, December the seventh.”

That gave Severus all new information to process. He opened his mouth to speak, but Remus shoved more toast in it. Severus chewed obligingly.

“Wait. I know what you’re going to say,” Remus said. “I know we’ve never talked much about what happened. It just feels so separate from what we have now. You know I don’t really like to talk about that time in my life, because I don’t like to think of it, because I was so unhappy back then. I’ve actually been working on that with my therapist for a while. Talking about it. It’s sort of easier now. The more I talk about it the farther away it seems, the less power it has, does that make sense? Anyway, I realised it would be twenty years and I came up with this anniversary scheme with Dr. Ionescu and she said it was a very romantic gesture and very healing, so don’t try to argue this one with me, okay?”

Severus swallowed the last of his toast, which Remus had been slowly feeding into his mouth like a conveyor belt the whole time he spoke. “Very well. That’s not what I was going to say, though.”

“Oh.” Remus took a bite of his own toast, which he ate dry. “What, then?”

“I never realised that it was before the full moon.” Severus felt heavy with guilt. He thought back to the memory as he’d lived it, and as he’d seen it in the pensieve, years later. Something clicked into place. The fidgeting, the air of distraction. Lupin hadn’t been making a grocery list, he’d been counting down to moonrise. “Is that why you seemed so eager to be rid of me in the morning?”

“I wasn’t trying to get rid of you!” Remus protested.

“Yes, you were. You needn’t spare my feelings, I was there. I wasn’t looking to linger, either. But I’m... pleased to know it wasn’t entirely personal.”

“Of course it wasn’t personal,” Remus said, kissing him quickly. “For the most part. And, all right, I guess I was sort of trying to get rid of you in the morning. But it wasn’t just because of the moon. It was also because I was desperately fighting to keep down the contents of my stomach. Tell me, Severus, have you ever woken up next to a puddle of wolf vomit?”

“You know very well that I have not. I’ve also never had a hangover that lasted two days.”

“Well, lah-di-dah.” He kissed Severus again, slowly. The empty plate slid to the floor with a crash. “Whoops,” Remus said, not looking contrite. His face was so close that his eyes were crossed and his thick silvered hair tickled Severus’ face. The words pulsed through Severus’ mind in time with his heartbeat: _You argued, you pushed me, you wrote me, you wanted me._

* * *

**_Anniversary of the Time Lily Evans Burned A Hole In The Floor Trying To Iron Her Hair (Observed): Remus_ **

The anniversaries had started as a sort of game. They kept trying to catch each other by surprise, to top one another with increasingly obscure and extravagant celebrations. _Anniversary of Teddy’s Penultimate Baby Tooth. Anniversary of Remus’ First (Successful) Crème Brûlée. Wolfsbanniversary. Anniversary of Severus Cleaning Out His Office For Good This Time. Floppy the Bunny’s Christening Day._ After all, the numbers on the calendar were arbitrary. What mattered was what they made of them. Remus, who would live and die by the phases of the moon, had gradually reorganized his life around a new set of observances. Their calendar grew more and more expansive, filling up with stories from their lives together and apart, stories about everyone they loved. Every time they came up with a new one, Remus would pencil it in. He was looking forward to the upcoming _Anniversary of the First Time Teddy Ate An Artichoke_ , even though Teddy wouldn’t be home to celebrate with them. Remus had a recipe he wanted to try. Maybe Remus would owl Teddy an artichoke at school, just to confuse all his friends. That could be fun.

The one thing they couldn’t settle on was their own anniversary. Was it the first time they’d made love? The first time they’d seen each other _on purpose_? Or was it when they’d closed on the cottage in York? When they’d combined their libraries? Was it all the way back on the day they first met, small and innocent of their incredible futures? For Remus, if he had to choose, it was the first time he had woken to find Teddy cradled between Severus and himself, and Severus had kissed Teddy’s hair, and Remus had been so full to bursting with joy that he cast a spontaneous patronus, a shaggy brown bear that lumbered about the room illuminating every shadow before curling at Teddy’s feet. (“It’s Teddy’s favourite animal,” he had whispered in response to Severus’ incredulity. “He thinks all bears are named after him.”)

The truth was that they couldn’t pin down a specific date, because that was never the way things had gone with them. They had simply seemed to flow into one another, coursing forward imperceptibly, until one day they looked back and realised that they were in a different place from where they began. They had lived separate lives, and then they were sometimes together, and then they were together all the time. It happened naturally, the same way that ‘pop’ had evolved from an onomatopoeia into Teddy’s word for Severus. Remus had been the one to turn ‘Pop’ into a snobbish _Papà_ , just to tease Severus. Teddy, too little at the time to understand the joke but having an innate sense of comedy, had picked it up and run with it ever since.

For all the minutiae they had recorded together, Remus still had no idea where Love had entered into their schema. He tried to work backwards, but he never could pin it down. Other things were more important. It didn’t matter when Remus had started loving Severus; it mattered that he had grown comfortable with loving Severus. It mattered that he had stopped believing Severus would disappear every time he left the room, although he still relapsed from time to time. Object permanence. What mattered most of all was that Severus loved Teddy, that Severus would always love Teddy, and that he would always be Teddy’s papà, even if Severus and Remus someday drifted out of love again. It mattered that Teddy still wanted to travel to the moon (he promised to give it a swift kick for Remus while he was up there). Apollo 11 had landed during the waxing crescent phase. Something to do with getting the angle of the light just so; Teddy’s explanation had mostly washed over him. Remus was just happy to know that one day, when his brilliant child made it to the moon, he would be free to stand under the open night sky and cheer him on.


End file.
